This Game of Mine

Chapters

2. A Light in the Dark
3. The Devil You Know
4. The Devil You Don't
5. Devil's Due
6. Up the Ante
|♫| ɪ. The Prison
7. Shadow Price
|♫| ɪɪ. The Path
8. The Messenger
|♫| ɪɪɪ. The Rose
9. Strange Suspect
10. Super Good Advice
|♫| ᴠ. The Ruin
11. Touch of Malice
|♫| ᴠɪ. The Tribulation
12. Not Like the Others
|♫| ᴠɪɪ. The Union
13. Reflection Sum – Part 1
13. Reflection Sum – Part 2
13. Reflection Sum – Part 3
|♫| ᴠɪɪɪ. The Hope
1. Fate of All Fools
|♫| ɪᴠ. The Ecstasy

2. A Light in the Dark

“A singer came to me, saying,
'You protect me, and I do nothing in return.'
I told her to sing, and she understood.”
—Mark of the Beacon

Ponyville had changed in the last few years. Not enough to feel totally different—still thatched roofs and farmland as far as the eye could see—but enough that many of the faces roaming the streets were mostly unfamiliar. There were a lot more of them, too.

It had definitely helped me slip past Diamond and Silver unnoticed as I left school that afternoon.

"Hide in plain sight."

I had simply become just one more filly in an ever-growing crowd of people. Fewer by the day would notice me, much less so now that the Crusaders had scaled down on their antics and committed to a more structured form of adventuring, one that required much less familiarity with the town's emergency first response unit.

Not that I’d need their help anymore.

I hadn’t gone after my friends either. I couldn’t even bear to face the Crusaders again. After all these years struggling with my very best friends, I had finally gotten my cutie mark… for this.

I was mortified. Diamond knew. Silver knew. Miss Cheerilee knew. The entire freakin’ class knew. I had spent the entire day with my face buried into my desk. Meanwhile those jerks decided it’d be a great idea to decorate my mane with a rather damp fashion statement, applied at range, to accompany my new cutie mark. I smoldered the entire way home, shaking my head to free all the spitballs that had lodged themselves between the curly fibers on my head.

My saddlebags slipped a bit in the process. Horseapples.

I repositioned them so that the marks were properly covered as before, then I glanced around—nopony had noticed.

Well, at least it was over. I rounded the last bend towards the path home.

And came face to face with the last two ponies I wanted to see.

What the—? I thought I managed to slip past these jerks.

I tried to brush past them, but they moved in front of me.

“How’s our little gaymare?” Diamond sneered.

I cringed. That was not something I wanted to hear. “Go away, Diamond.”

“She doesn’t seem overly fond of your new title for her,” remarked Silver.

I snarled and tried to push myself around her. Somehow, I succeeded. Or she let me.

“Aww, does the little gaymare wanna run back to her stable?” mocked Diamond in a shrill tone. “You can’t run away from the ugly truth!”

They laughed as I galloped to the door, hoping by the grace of the Stars that they wouldn’t follow.

They didn't. Seems like fate was smiling upon me today.

Hah. As if.

I snuck into Carousel Boutique as quietly as I could. The bell nearly chimed as I opened the door, but I stopped the impending ring with a minute tendril of magic.

My elder sister was at the kitchen table, sipping her tea and reading the papers. Thankfully, she had her back turned. I shut the door behind me as quietly as I could, hoping to avoid her notice.

It was then that a damnable little ball of furry fury let out a loud screech and pounced on me from a nearby chair.

“GAH!” I fell to the floor, my saddlebags sprawled around me.

“Wha—! Sweetie Belle, is that you?” called a silky voice from the other room.

Great... just what I needed. “Yes, Rarity, it’s me.”

I heard a chair slide back. Quickly, I threw Opalescence off of my chest—she hissed and ran off, and I was almost tempted to bare my own teeth at her in response. I tried to stuff my saddlebags again and place them back over my haunches before Rarity could turn the corner.

“Dearie, are you alright? That was quite a scare, and—“ she stopped in the archway, staring at me, just as I managed to slip them back on. “Hang on… S-Sweetie Belle, did I just see—“

“Umm, n-no, sis,” I stammered. “You didn’t see nothing. Er, I mean, anything.”

The widest grin formed on Rarity’s mouth.

Well aren't you just the most persuasive little bundle of subtlety today.

Shut up, brain.

I dully began pondering if an argument against my own subconscious was a sign of insanity, before my thoughts were interrupted by the most inequine squeal of delight.

“Stars above, did you get your cutie mark?!” exclaimed my sister. She rushed forward instantly.

“Horseapples,” I swore under my breath.

“This is magnificent!" She rapidly approached. "This is stupendous!" She shouted gleefully. "This is THE...!" A turquoise aura of magic appeared. "BEST...!" My saddlebags were whisked into the air. "POSSIBLE—!” She swiveled her head.

And suddenly, all was silent as she gazed upon my fate, her effervescent smile glowing in the soft aura of her magic, her pupils shrinking to minute pinpricks.

"—thing?"

For a few seconds more, she processed the emblazoned symbol on my haunches, her face a perfect little mixture of excitement, shock, and horror all encapsulated into a single moment of dawning realization. I was almost impressed by how many emotions you could unceremoniously cram into one dumb expression. Hell, I probably would have taken a picture or something if I could.

Was it bad that my mind instinctively told me to reach for the Screenshot button?

Somehow that thought wasn’t particularly sobering.

“D-darling! I’m so glad for you!” she recovered quickly, sweeping me into a gigantic hug and pushing me over her shoulders such that I was spared another moment of her conflicted visage. “Who would have ever thought.”

“Yeah… who would have ever.”

“When did you— er, earn this?” she asked, putting me down and smiling at me.

I could see that twitch in her eyebrows.

“Last night," I explained, plucking my saddlebags from the air and setting them down. "I was up playing last night, and I beat the hardest raid in the game with my friends.”

“That’s… that’s fantastic, dear!”

“We were the first people to do it in the entire world.”

“Oh!” her eyes glittered, and I actually detected a hint of genuine… something? Or maybe not. “Well, then that’s truly remarkable. Quite the achievement, indeed.” She nodded, and nodded again, as if to assure herself of the truth.

“Yep. Aren’t I just the most amazing little filly,” I said sarcastically, unpacking my schoolwork from the bag. “I’m sure I’ll be just as famous as you someday.”

Ouch. Way to stay true to your name, kid.

“Ahahahaha,” she laughed, with just a tinge of uncertainty, and a look in her eyes that probably said is this filly for real or am I seriously raising a sack of potatoes. “Well you’re certainly the sweetest little flatterer. Is it the same Marendo Game Stable game that we bought for you a few weeks ago?”

“It’s not a Marendo or a GameStable, sis, it’s a Hoofbox,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And that’s not the game, it’s just the machine that plays the game.”

I swear, explaining this again to Rarity was like talking to a thirteen year old.

Heh. See? I could be funny and self-deprecating at the same time.

...Actually, that wasn’t very funny.

“Well! I’m, er, certainly glad that all it took was a couple thousand bits, if it meant you wouldn't have to continue searching for your cutie mark for all eternity.”

I was about to retort with an “I’m not,” but then I stopped and realized the unintentional pun she had made.

And I did the last thing I expected myself to do.

I burst out laughing.

She stared at me, just a little bewildered. “Er, beg pardon, was it something I said?”

It took me a moment to recompose myself. “Hahahaha! Aha,” I controlled my laughter and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Yes. Yeah, absolutely. Oh mare, I really needed that.”

“Um… I’m sorry?”

I turned to Rarity. She had the silliest, most confused smile on her picturesque face. And it spoke volumes. Even if she wasn’t sure how to feel about my new discovery, even if I myself wasn’t quite sure how to feel… she still wanted to be happy for me. She still wanted me to be happy. And she was trying very hard to make sure I was.

She didn’t deserve my attitude.

I breathed in. And I breathed out.

“Rarity…” I reached up and gave her a hug. “I love you. Thank you.”

There was only a short pause before I felt her leg curl around my neck. “I love you too, Sweetie Belle. Congratulations.”

Dinner was a lovely affair that evening. Rarity had actually seen fit to get dressed—it was a simple thing, just a modest white number with a few frills, nothing extravagant. The table had been set impeccably, with a single candle flickering merrily in the center, and she had prepared one of my favorite dishes, a Gryphosi penne pasta with veggies in white wine sauce.

“I also managed to acquire one of theeese,” she singsonged, levitating a bottle of imported vanilla cream soda over the table to me as I approached.

"Did I ever mention that I love you?" I replied dreamily, cuddling the bottle like it was a newborn foal.

“Only because I bribe you with cream soda and video games, I’m sure,” she teased playfully.

I giggled, climbing into my seat. “You know me too well.”

And dinner began in earnest.

"Did you finish your homework this evening?” she asked across the table.

“Most of it,” I replied, after swallowing a bite. “I’m still kinda chipping away. I’ll probably just need one more hour or so to get the rest of my required reading for the night out of the way.”

“I hope you’ve been remembering to take constant breaks.”

"I have." But not for what you think. I hadn't even turned on my game console all day today. For some reason, I couldn't find the heart to.

Considering the mark on my haunches, the irony was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Don't worry sis. I've been making sure," answering her with a smile that masked my thoughts. "That’s what the egg timer is for, after all.”

“Ah! Have you been putting my suggestion to good use?”

“Yeah, it’s actually worked out really well. An hour, fifteen, an hour, fifteen, just like you said.”

“Good filly,” she nodded in appreciation. “Very good filly. Just let me know if you can’t finish it all tonight—I’ll see what I can do to walk you through it.”

“Thanks, but you should focus on your work. I probably won’t need it anymore now that the raiding season in Eternity is over.”

“If I may be frank for a moment… I must say, you have no idea how refreshing that is to hear,” she said with no small amount of flustered relief.

“Yeah, sorry about that, and…” I paused, a little embarrassed, hesitating with an artichoke heart at the end of a fork before me. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

She had a slightly strained face, but it was quickly overcome with a bright smile. “Anything for my sweetest Belle.”

I felt warm inside. And that totally wasn't because of these glorious sun-dried tomatoes or anything. I licked my lips and savored the tangy flavor. “How has work been?”

“Oh, it’s been rather…” she shifted her eyes. “Time-consuming, to say the least. But I am, surprisingly, getting a decent number of high-profile contracts. A Hoofington theater troupe recently commissioned an assortment of costumes, and despite the extra workload it’s been particularly lucrative.”

“That’s good to hear,” I nodded. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

“Why, whatever could you mean?” she smiled, fluttering her eyelashes. “Fret not, dearest Sweetie, your big sister can handle herself.”

I chuckled, but knew better.

“Though I may need some assistance once the details of the Cirque du Poné contract come in…” she chanted innocently.

“You’re kidding?” I almost stood up in my chair. “You got it?”

“In-deeeeed~” she sang with glee. “I’ll be off to Manehattan by the end of this week to go over the preliminary details, and by the end of the month, I’ll be designing for some of the most extraordinary acrobats this side of the Heartland. Aren’t you proud?”

“More than proud!” I grinned. She had been fighting tooth and nail for a chance at this opportunity. “That’s awesome, sis. There’s no way the nobles in Canterlot can ignore you after this.”

“Absolutely impossible. The Sun must be smiling upon us such that our dreams can come true on the same day,” she sighed daintily.

I couldn't help the pause that crept into my voice. “…Y-yeah. Definitely.” Maye she didn't notice.

“Is… is something the matter, Sweetie?”

Of course she noticed. She was Rarity, for Sun’s sake. Couldn't hide a damn thing from her.

“…Yeah. Yeah, something’s the matter.”

“I daresay, this doesn’t have anything to do with your cutie mark, does it?”

I slouched in my chair. “Gee, I wonder what gave it away,” I replied with good-natured sarcasm.

“Oh dearest Sweetie Belle,” she said in sympathy. “I…”

There was a pause. Both of us knew there was little new to say on the general matter of my hobby. I had already poured out my heart to her about the topic. But this? This was different. New. Unexpected. A development that she could never have foreseen.

“I guess… I just never thought that it would be more than a hobby,” I said, breaking the silence. “I always thought it was just something I could… you know, do in my spare time. For fun. And not make a big deal out of it. But then my cutie mark went and made it into one anyways.”

“But Sweetie, dear, you’re so talented with it, and you love it so. I’ve seen the way you talk about these 'games', the way you admire their craftsmareship, and the dedication you put forth into honing your mastery over them. It’s clear you see something far greater in them than the rest of us will ever know. It’s become more important than that.”

“Yeah, but… did it have to be? And why does the entire world have to know?” I sighed, feeling it all begin to spill out. “I mean, what am I even supposed to do with a cutie mark like this? Sure, I’m really good at games—probably better than all my other friends—but it’s not like I can get a job playing video games or anything. It’s not like it’ll help me get into Celestia’s School in Canterlot. It just seems so…" I struggled to say the words. "…so pointless."

I hesitated, before I opened my mouth again. To finally say what had been on my mind after all this time. To put the final nail in my own coffin.

"What kind of a destiny is this?”

A heavy silence hung over us. I watched the candle flickering softly on the table. It danced merrily in the moonlight, and I couldn't help but be jealous—it knew what it was, it knew its purpose, and it happily set itself to accomplishing that purpose until flickering out of existence, merely awaiting the next moment we would need to summon its beauty and warmth.

If only my purpose were so clear.

Rarity coughed. I turned back to her.

“Well, what of that one filly in your class? Er, Lucky Strike?”

“He’s a colt, sis.”

“Yes, well, he found his destiny in bowling! How is that so different from what you have?”

“Because now he’s competing professionally all over the Heartland in a top-tier bowling league.”

She looked stunned at the news. “Truly? At his age?”

I gave her a flat look. “We’re about to graduate, you know.”

“Oh, oh… right, of course.” She coughed, somewhat embarrassed. “My apologies. Sometimes it seems like all of you are simply just growing up so fast.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Growing up alright.”

"Honestly, Sweetie Belle!” she stood up and walked over to my side of the table. “Don’t deprecate yourself so! You have grown to become a fine young lady.”

“What kinda ‘lady’ gets her cutie mark in video games?” I retorted. The sting of Diamond's and Silver's insults this morning surged back to the forefront of my psyche.

She blanched at that. “Well, I… er…”

“Exactly. We’ve been over this before. There’s a reason why I made you Pinkie Promise not to tell anyone. There’s a reason why I wanted for us to wear coats when we went to get my—“

“Sweetie Belle, I know, dear,” she said, putting her hoof on my shoulder and gently pushing me back into my seat. “Believe me, I know. I don’t doubt I’m the only one qualified enough to know.”

I sighed. Of course she was. Lady Rarity, master of social etiquette and classy demeanor. The one person in this town who knew what outward appearances could do for—and to—a pony. If there was anyone out there in the world who could understand why this bothered me so much, it was her.

So why was she talking like this? Treating it like it was nothing?

As I lowered back down to a sitting position, she joined me somewhat on the chair and pulled me into a hug.

“Sweetie Belle, we all have our secrets. We all have something we do within the confines of privacy that society would likely frown on if they knew. But that doesn’t make us any less than what we are. I have my own fair share of secrets too, you know.”

I looked at her. “You do? Like what?”

“Er… perhaps when you graduate.” She coughed. “Anyways. My point is, there is no shame in these things. Neither you nor I can change what you love, anymore than I can…” she pondered for a moment, putting a hoof to her lips, her eyes wandering in thought before settling on something on the table. “Ah! Anymore than I can tell you to stop loving cream soda.”

…That was… random?

“Think about it. You take a sip of that soda. Your taste buds sing in merriment. Can you suddenly wake up one morning and tell your taste buds that what they had experienced was wrong?”

…Huh. “No, I… I guess I can’t.”

“Similarly, what if I trotted over to Sweet Apple Acres, and told Applejack straight to her face, ‘Apples are revolting and proletarian. You should cease your enjoyment of apples this instant.’ How likely would I be to change her opinion?”

“Hah. You'd have better luck usurping the Diarchy.”

“Precisely. Now, you understand what I mean?"

I gazed off into the distance. "…Yeah. Yeah, I get it." It really was pretty simple, when I looked at it that way.

"Sweetie Belle, listen to me." She put a hoof on my face and turned me to look at her eyes. "Despite everything that’s happened, and despite what your heart has chosen to love, you are still a fine young lady. I believe it to be true, and so should you. No matter what anypony has to say about it.”

I looked up at her, and couldn't help but be enraptured by the sincerity of the soft, graceful smile on her face.

Out of everyone I knew, I had talked to her the most about this. I lived with her every day, after all. She instructed me on lessons of etiquette and demeanor, helped me through my studies, and had taught me just enough to help with her own work… enough to do so without accidentally setting the room on fire, at least.

And, in return for my performance in school, she gave me a weekly stipend, along with occasional payment for services rendered, and even sometimes embellished by her own unconditional contributions. All of which I was allowed to spend on anything I want, no questions asked.

And oh, had she been curious. Sometimes I felt bad for subjecting her to hours of my ranting and raving about how amazing this or that game was or how hard I had worked to achieve something or other. But somehow, I felt like my words resonated with her. She would sit at the table, waxing philosophical about the magnificent things that these virtual worlds could let me experience, or helping me understand concepts that the games had been inadvertently teaching me about the real world.

It was like she understood, and even celebrated, what it was that made me love video games so, even if she never would be able to enjoy them herself.

How could I expect anything less from Rarity?

"Hey sis?"

"Yes, dear?"

“Did I mention that I love you?”

"Mm,” she cooed, pulling me back into her embrace. "A wonderfully familiar refrain.”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“You know this can’t go on forever, Filthy.”

“You don’t know what your cutie mark means?”

“We’re the Crusaders. We’re in it together, aren’t we?”

“I play video games to have fun, not to wage war.”

“Careful! You coulda rung a Belle with that!”

"Nothing good can come of this."

Author's Note

Dedicated to my sister, the popular girl, constantly surrounded by friends, always into fashion and makeup and MacBooks and all that jazz... but never forgetting what it means to be a wonderful sibling. Thank you, sis. You are a joy and an inspiration.

Credits:
Many thanks to my editors Sharp Quill and Zaid ValRoa, who actually tackled this one before it went out instead of after. You guys shoulda seen the list of corrections. It was quite immense.

Thanks to eggynack and DarthSonic66 for minor corrections.

Story Notes:
If you didn't get the pun that Sweetie Belle started laughing at: here you go. This is the game that Sweetie Belle and Button Mash were playing in the last chapter. It's punny because Destiny helped Sweetie Belle discover her destiny. Get it? Hahahaha!... Sorry. I'll go.

Personal Thoughts:
HOLY SHIT I CAN'T BELIEVE I PUBLISHED THAT. For some reason it was harder to publish than the FIRST one, just because this time there's around... what, 400 people who are watching this like hawks? Jesus, that's just WAY too much pressure. I dunno, man. You guys are intense.

The positive feedback to this story has been completely overwhelming. This is literally the first story I've ever submitted to fimfic, and hell, the first time I've written in years. As of right now I've been in the Feature Box for a full day. I never imagined that anyone would even care day one. So to see this kind of reception is really, really encouraging, especially since this story ended up containing a lot more of, well, me in it than I had intended for it to when I originally set out to write it.

Also, I'm going to say this now: I've never written Rarity before, and she is such an utter joy to write.

Thanks for your guys's support. Please continue to leave your critiques below; I need your criticism, both good and bad. I want to know what you guys love about this fic, so I can keep adding more of it, and I want to know what ticks you off, so I can work on getting rid of it. You guys are da best.

3. The Devil You Know

“You cannot control the enemy.
You can control yourself.
The real victory lies within.”
—Mark of Resolve

Everypony was staring.

They thought they were being sneaky, but it was easy to tell. Out of the corners of my eyes, I’d see them lean towards their neighbors in the marketplace. From the edges of my hearing, I could hear whispering as I passed their stalls. Sometimes I’d look up and catch their gaze for a split second, before they hurriedly looked away, as if they’d seen something they shouldn’t have. A fair number even grimaced before turning elsewhere.

But occasionally, they would wave.

“Congratulations, Miss Belle! Wear that cutie mark proudly!”

“Thank you, Mister Davenport. I shall!”

Or they’d give me presents.

“Oooh, look at that! Grats, muffin! Have a muffin!”

“You’re too kind, Miss Doo! Thank you.”

But two of them admonished me.

“Well, well, what do we have here,” came the sneer of an olive stallion as I trotted through town square. “This little Crusader finally has her cutie mark.”

“Hmph,” joined the blue-coated mare next to him in a sweetly acidic voice. “All those times my men and I dragged you out of some random ditch in the Everfree, for this?”

This time, I stopped before the intimidating pair who had spoken—two town guards, both decorated in iron plate armor, standing a post in town square. Countless years of perilous Crusading ensured that we had come to know virtually every guard stationed in the town, and these two were no exception. The stallion was more than twice my size, and I knew he could crush me in an instant if he tried. The mare was much more lithe, but I knew she could probably murder the stallion. In her sleep.

I looked up into the hardened gaze of the deadly mare, gave her my most award-winning smile, and rolled for charisma. “I’m afraid your men may need to be prepared for more dragging in the future, Captain. I am but one Crusader, after all.”

The Captain of the Town Guard fixed me with narrow eyes… before leaning back and bursting into hearty laughter. “Hear that, Bulwark? It looks like you won’t be out of a job quite just yet!”

“Hah!” The stallion’s guffaw boomed across the open square. “Well, at least I can thank ya for keepin’ it interesting.” He held out a hoof before me. “Congratulations on scorin’ your mark, missy.”

“I likely wouldn’t be alive to have done so if not for your constant watch,” I replied, slapping the stallion’s hoof. “Thank you, Sir Bulwark, Captain Romana, for looking after me and my fellow Crusaders these many years.”

“We look forward to many more,” said the Captain, beaming at me with glittering blue eyes and wide rows of flawless ivory. “Off with you now, little Belle. Don’t be late!”

I continued my trot to school, which was otherwise mostly the same as any other before—aside from the staring. I glanced back at the dove adorning my haunches, laid bare for all the world to see.

Smite them all. They didn't need to be happy with me, as long as I was.

Suddenly, there was an incredibly loud “GASP!”—literally, she said the word ‘gasp’—and a vibrant blur of color and motion virtually materialized before me, staring intently at my rear with mere inches to spare between its eyes and my cutie mark.

“Like what you see, Miss Pinkie?” I shook my flank, booping her on the nose with my cutie mark.

“Like it?” She fixed me with a menacing glare. “Like it?” She began shaking violently. “’Like’ it doesn’t even flipping DESCRIBE IT!” She exploded in a shower of confetti and streamers, surging into the air as small firecrackers burst all around her. As she landed, she swept me up in her arms and spun me around. “Ooooooooh, LOOKATYOU! Our itsy bitsy Sweetie Bellie got her cutesy wootsy tushie mark!”

“I am not itsy bitsy!” I laughed, waving my legs wildly in the air.

“You are to me!” She pulled me into an incredibly tight hug, and I was submerged into an endless sea of fuzzy pink. “You’re so adowable I wanna put you in my pocket and carry you around on adventures oh my gosh that’s a great idea, Sweetie! Pocket Belle, the finest adventuring companion, in a fun size package for all your mobile mischief needs! You’re so smart!”

What. “That’s silly, Miss Pinkie, and you know it!”

“GASP!” she gasped again. “You’re right! How could I even think of capitalizing upon you and your adorableness and your trademarks and your cutie marks for my own nefarious materialistic needs, when I haven’t even thrown you a cuteceñara for your brand new cutie mark?! How silly of me!” She bonked herself on the head with a hoof. “I must have had my checklist upside down or something!”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Miss Pinkie, and thank you so much.” I waved a hoof as I continued towards school, inviting her to walk with me— er, I guess bouncing worked too. “But you don’t have to throw me a cuteceñara yet—”

“What?! How could I not throw you a cuteceñara?! That’s impossibrew! In fact, that’s worse than impossibrew, which is saying something, because Impossibrew is the worst kind of brew! Seriously, I tried some, it’s awful. Hey, if you let me throw you a cuteceñara, I positively Pinkie Promise not to bring any Impossibrew. Oh, and there’ll be tons of video games and I’ll invite everypony even if they don’t like games or think that they’re only for colts, because they’re stupid and I don’t care because you got your cutie mark for video games oh my gosh that’s so awesome and please let me throw you a huuuuuuge LAN party for your cuteceñara—” I flooded with warmth at this, but oh my Stars I needed to make it stop now otherwise she would go on forever.

“Don’t worry, Miss Pinkie, you can throw me a cuteceñara,” I interrupted in a placating tone. “And… I appreciate it, really. All of this means a lot to me, you have no idea.” I hugged her around the neck again, for good measure, and she audibly ‘squeak’ed as I did, like a rubber duckie. “Just, it might need to wait for a bit. I think my sister is gonna try to surprise me with something tonight.” Like she usually did on my birthdays.

“Pfft! Who said anything about tonight?”

I gave her a flat look. “Your brain did. I can guarantee it.”

“Oh, wow, how did you know?! You sure you didn’t get your cutie mark in mind reading?” She giggle-snorted. “Well, my brain is being a bad brain anyways. I should stop listening to it! My tail is pretty smart though. I listen to it a lot!” Suddenly, her tail twitched. “Oop! Like right now omigosh MOVE!”

Before I could even process her command, she had grabbed me around the waist and swept me off my feet.

“Whoa! Miss Pinkie, please don’t spi—”

CRASH.

I looked down at where I had been standing mere moments ago, where a once-whole flower pot lay shattered in the path.

“Phew! That was a close one.” She put me down and called out to the window sill above us. “Careful! You coulda rung a Belle with that!”

Nopony responded.

“Huh. That’s weird. Usually there’s an apology when that happens.” She shrugged. “Oh well! It was probably an accident. At least you’re alive and unrung! Oh hey, speaking of Belles and bells, I think I hear the school bell and you should probably get going before you’re late try not to get killed again BYE!”

She sped off. Tearing my gaze away from the crushed flowerpot, I turned to her retreating figure. “Bye Miss Pinkie, thanks for, uh... keeping me unrung!” I called after her.

I then returned my gaze to the window, which belonged to a house I walked past every day on my way to school. It wasn’t far away from where I was standing, but it was far enough that the flowerpot couldn’t have just slipped from the sill.

This wasn’t an accident.

And I knew who lived here.

“Featherweight?” she said incredulously, staring over her papers.

“Yes, Miss Cheerilee. Featherweight.” I didn’t believe it either. Feather and I weren't exactly ‘friends’, but out of all my classmates, he was one of the kindest. We had studied together before, and I had always gotten along pretty well with his family.

“…And you say Miss Pinkie can vouch for you?” she asked, glancing at the door as the student in question walked through.

“Yes ma’am. She can confirm which house we were in front of this morning.”

Cheerilee sighed. “Very well. Head out to the hall—we’ll join you in a moment.”

She stood up, and as she trotted towards his desk, I exited through the back.

Featherweight was a sweetheart. He wouldn’t try to pull something like this on me.

It was only a few seconds later that Miss Cheerilee emerged, leading a very nervous-looking Featherweight—the colt looked as pale as a ghost.

“Featherweight, I’ve just been informed by Sweetie Belle that you attempted to—”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!” he cried out, suddenly bursting into tears.

Of course it wasnt.

“So you know something, but it wasn’t you?”

“Well… well, it was!” he continued. “But they forced me to! They pushed me before I could change my mind!”

Obviously.

“They? They who?”

“I-I can’t say, or they’ll—”

“Diamond Tiara,” I answered for him, my voice cold. “She probably knew I walked past that house every day.”

She glanced at me, before looking at Featherweight again. “Is this true?”

Did you even need to ask.

“I… I’m not allowed to—”

I put a hoof on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Feather, you don’t have to say anything. Miss Cheerilee and I both know that you would never do something like this.” He gave me a look of utter gratitude.

“I’m s-sorry, Sweetie,” he sniffled. “My parents let them in, thinking that they were my friends and we would be walking to school together.”

I gave him a hug. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Turning back to Miss Cheerilee, I spoke again. “Miss Cheerilee, you know it’s Diamond. It always is.”

“It always is,” she said with a heavy sigh, putting a hoof on her brow in frustration. “Do you think you’ll be comfortable staying in class today, Featherweight?”

“I… I really don’t,” he sniffled.

“Very well. Go ahead and gather your things then. I’ll write you a note. If she asks, just tell her I suspended you for the day.”

“I’ll swing by later today to drop off your homework, alright?”

“T-thanks, you guys.” He gave Miss Cheerilee a hug and smiled gratefully at me before disappearing back into the classroom.

As we watched him leave, I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath, “This is a load of manure.”

Miss Cheerilee turned toward me with a tired expression. “Sweetie Belle…”

“It is!” I started pacing back and forth in front of her. “She walks around like she owns the place, bullies everypony into doing things they don’t want to do, threatens them if they don’t listen—”

“Sweetie, honey—”

“—and we can’t do a damn thing about it because her stupid family donated enough for some stupid expansion to this stupid school and for Sun’s sake they all need to all go stick a cactus—”

“ENOUGH, MISS BELLE!” she shouted, stomping her hoof angrily. “I need you to calm down right this instant and do as Rarity says.”

The Phrase.

"Stop what you’re doing. Drop everything. Breathe in, breathe out. Just like I taught you."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

No mind.

The anger radiated off of me in waves.

“Ready?”

“Not yet.”

I did it again, feeling the fury recede, and leaving only an empty coldness in its absence.

“Alright. I think I am now.” I opened my eyes and looked at my teacher. She held me in her steady gaze, eyes filled with worry. “I apologize for my outburst, Miss Cheerilee.”

“That’s quite alright.” She put a hoof on my shoulder. “I understand you’re angry—I am too—but it’s just like you said. As long as Diamond’s father has his hoof in the Headmaster’s pie, there’s little we can do about it. No matter what we divulge to the Princess of their mating rituals.”

I snorted. Then I sat on the floor, defeated. “It’s just not fair.”

“I know, honey. I know.” She wrapped me in her forehooves, and I felt a surge of warmth as I sat in the embrace of my teacher.

My dear friend Cheerilee.

“…Thanks,” I whispered quietly. “For this. And everything else.”

“Anytime, Sweetie.” We stood up. “Will you be okay today, or should I let you go home as well?”

“Nah. I’ll be fine. I’ve got my friends. And I still need to give Featherweight his homework and today’s notes.”

“Alright, Sweetie.” We stood up. “You’re a tough filly. Hang in there, yeah?”

“Yeah. I will.” I brushed a bit of dirt off my tail. “It’s so very strange.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What is?”

“You always know how to cheer me up.”

Miss Cheerilee gave me a flat look as she opened the door. “Don't make me regret this. I can and will give you detention.”

“How could you do such a thing? I am the very definition of class.” I nearly danced through the doorway as she buried her face in a hoof.

“…which resulted in Equestria and Gryphos barring most travel between the two countries for the last two years,” Cheerilee explained, drawing and erasing two lines between two flags on the board. “However, over the course of several diplomatic summits, we have lifted many of our economic trade sanctions against Gryphos.”

As I diligently wrote notes from the board, I quietly marveled at how I could manage to apply ‘diligently’, ‘wrote’, and ‘notes’ all at once, to myself, simultaneously. It often took a ridiculous force of will for me to pay attention in class, and yet here I was, diligently writing notes.

It was astounding! It was stupendous! It was another adjective of awe-inspiring proportions!

Hm. I wondered why I was so focused today. Maybe it’s because Featherweight’s counting on me this time, and there’s more at stake than just my own grades. Yeah, that explains it. He’s relying on me, and I can’t let him down!

Especially since Diamond Tiara was the reason why he couldn’t stay today. If he falls behind, he’ll become another casualty in her name. I can’t let her be responsible for the failures of another student!

This is all just another battle in the protracted campaign against the evil Diamond Tiara and her devilish machinations! I can’t let her injustices go unpunished, and I shall reinforce my holdings and defend the honor of those I seek to protect. Nothing can extinguish my light!

Nodding to myself in determination, I looked back up at the board—only to realize that, in my rumination, I had actually missed part of the lecture. Drat.

In fact, for some reason, Miss Cheerilee wasn’t speaking—Button was.

“…but if we’re at war with Gryphos—”

“We’re not at war with Gryphos,” Miss Cheerilee corrected gently.

“If we’re at cold war with Gryphos,” he continued undeterred, “then why can I still play video games with gryphons? How do they have access to the Stratonet if it’s run out of Stratopolis?”

That was… actually a really good question. How could Freya access our network if her country wasn't exactly on the best of terms with us?

There was an audible retch of disgust from a corner of the room, which Miss Cheerilee pointedly ignored.

“A fantastic observation, Button.” She turned around and started drawing a row of clouds between the two flags. “The Stratonet is one of the great ironies of this conflict. A lot of Gryphosi economic and communications infrastructure relies on it, so it’s one of our bargaining chips—if they attacked, they would lose access to the network immediately, which would cripple them. Yet, at the same time, they can’t expand their Stratonet grid without rare materials and pony resources from our side of the border. In both ways, we have them trapped.”

Silver Spoon raised her hoof.

“Yes, Silver?”

“If they attack us and win, can’t they just take those resources anyways?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Why don’t they? You said they have a bigger and more powerful military.”

“Because despite that, it wouldn’t be a decisive victory. We may be less powerful than them, but we're at least powerful enough to cause a lot of damage, and they’re worried about losing too many people and resources to a fight. More importantly, not all of them want to fight us. Their government faces plenty of anti-war resistance from its people.”

“People? Hmph. They’re just carnivorous beasts, clawing jealously at proper civilization.”

“Raise your hoof before speaking, Diamond. And they’re just as advanced as we are, perhaps more so. They put a gryphon on the moon.”

“We put a nightmare on the moon, and we can move it around.”

“A lot of ponies would die before the Princesses could put that magic to use. If the gryphons are smart enough to put someone on the moon through technology, imagine how much damage they could cause if they turned that technology on us. They’d have missiles over our borders in seconds. The Princesses are powerful, but they are not gods. No matter what the posters lining the streets say, they can’t protect us all.”

A hushed silence overcame the classroom at this proclamation. That was a rather bold statement for Miss Cheerilee to make.

“You are all going to be graduating very soon, so I’m not going to lie and make it sound pretty,” she said gravely, turning around to erase the board. “War is never pretty, and we shouldn’t go around asking for it, even if we think we can win.”

The bell rang at this point. “And with the mood in this room considerably brightened, I hereby declare political science over for today! Have a good lunch break, my little ponies! I expect to see you all back for Equestrian Lit in an hour.”

For a few moments, the room became a cacophony of scratching and dragging as ponies scooted out of their chairs. Apple Bloom, Button and Scoots all looked at me hopefully, and I smiled quickly and waved my hoof.

"Gimme a second," I mouthed to the fillies, who nodded and turned away.

I hopped off my seat and walked straight up to Cheerilee’s desk.

“Miss Cheerilee?”

“Hmm?” She was stacking papers and preparing to leave. “Everything all right, Sweetie Belle?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” I hoofed her a stack of papers. “Here, I have something for you.”

She took the papers, scanned them quickly, and looked up at me with a delighted smile.

“Thank you, Sweetie Belle. I’m very proud of you. I’ll grade these immediately.”

“Aw, you don’t have to do that. Come have lunch with the rest of us!”

“Er. Well, I’ll be indisposed for quite some time anyways. I had a fair bit of coffee this morning.” She coughed. “That, and I still need to grade your work. I’ll probably be holed up in the faculty room for a while longer.” I opened my mouth to say something, but she shooed me away with a hoof and a smile. “Go on! Join your friends. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Thanks again, Miss Cheerilee. I’ll see you after lunch!”

As I turned around, I couldn’t help but feel an elevated sense of pride. My kill-death ratio was positive again—! Er, I mean, you know, higher than one. Whatever. After all, small victories like turning in all my late homework were just that—small victories—but they did a heckuva lot to brighten my day anyways.

It was odd how such a little thing could do so much to improve my mood. Yet who was I to question it?

I trotted out to the lunch tables, where my friends were already muzzle-deep into their meals.

“Heya, Crusaders,” said Scootaloo cheerfully, busting a salad out of a lunchbox dazzlingly adorned with a cacophony of rainbow stickers. “How is everypony?”

“Pretty swell,” replied Apple Bloom, pulling—what else?—an apple out of a bag. “Though I gotta say, all this talk of war scares me.”

“It’s not that bad,” I consoled her, taking a seat up and unboxing my leftovers from last night’s pasta dinner. “I’m scared too, but I’m sure everything will be alright.”

“Says you, Miss ‘I Got A Cutie Mark For Shooting Gryphons’,” teased Scootaloo.

“Heeey!” I playfully batted her with a hoof. “That’s not funny! They’re just games. And I’m shooting at the Forlorn, not gryphons.”

“Well, technically the Forlorn are all still gryphons,” piped up Button through a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich. “Chaos-infested gryphons, sure, but gryphons.”

“Button, hush, you’re not helping my case.”

“Which makes me wonder,” pondered Apple Bloom as she paused over her—what else?—apple fritter. “Ain’t y’all got a gryphon in yer guild thing? Why in Equestria would a gryphon wanna play a game about ponies killin’ gryphons?”

“It’s complicated!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “Those specific gryphons in the game are bad guys, and they aren’t the only things we fight! More importantly, Freya knows they’re just video games too. She plays to hang out with us, not to kill gryphons.”

“I dunno, that just sounds super weird,” said Scootaloo. “‘Hey Miss Freya, what are you up to today?’ ‘Not much, gryphon number two! Just gonna play a nerdy video game where I shoot members of my own species with the help of ponies from the enemy country!’ ‘Gee, Freya, I was gonna go eat a bunny rabbit, but that sounds like way more fun!’”

I smacked my head into my desk with an audible thump. Ow. “This is not a conversation I want to be having right now.”

“Pfft. I’m pretty sure Freya would love this,” Button supplied jovially. That didn't make me feel better.

“If we get invaded by Gryphos, and Freya comes to our houses to skewer us alive with her talons, I’m blaming you entirely.”

“Yeah right! You’d beat her down in seconds. You have a way higher kill-death ratio than her.”

“She has claws. What am I gonna do, throw my Hoofbox at her?”

“You could try,” provided Scootaloo with a meaningful fork-point at me. “Don’t those things weigh like forty pounds? It’d probably knock her right outta the sky.”

I held up a scrawny foreleg. “Do I look like I can throw forty pounds?”

“I can!” exclaimed Apple Bloom happily through a mouthful of—what else?—apple sauce. “I once tossed a fifty pound bale of hay ten meters!”

“Oh yes, the mighty gryphons with their automatic rifles and razor sharp talons shall quake at the might of the indomitable Apple Bloom, Tosser of Hay Bales.”

“Hah, I’d take that title if it came with a hay bale as a cutie mark,” joked Scootaloo.

“I wish I got a hay bale as a cutie mark,” Apple Bloom murmured. “Sun, I wish I got anythin’ as a cutie mark.” Her glum eyes turned to me. “I’m jealous of ya, Sweetie Belle.”

Hoboy. “Sorry, gals,” I said in apology. “I didn’t exactly mean for that to happen.”

“I mean, you even managed to get it without any of our help,” added Scootaloo.

“I helped!” proclaimed Button gleefully.

“Meh,” Scootaloo meh’d.

“I just figured we’d be involved somehow. Or at least together when it happened,” muttered Apple Bloom. “I mean, we’re the Crusaders. We’re in it together, aren’t we?”

...You all realize this is why I didn’t wanna hang out with you yesterday, right?

“Really, girls?” glowered Button. We all turned to him. “None of this is her fault, and you know it.”

Apple Bloom sighed, blushing slightly and resting her face on folded forelegs. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“And we really are happy for you,” added Scootaloo, giving me a genuine smile. “Even if, yanno, you did get your mark in something kinda weird and geeky.” I gave her a flat look. “Hey! It’s still totally awesome.”

“Yeah, we’re really happy for ya, Sweets,” Apple Bloom nodded with a grin, but it quickly faded. “I guess we just can’t help bein’ a lil’… jealous, that’s all. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Yer not just good at somethin’, yer the best in the world at it.”

Err, kinda, but not quite. I figured it’d be too much of a hassle to explain it all. Oddly enough, Button didn’t correct her either—he had an uncharacteristically serious look on his face that was almost… unsettling.

“Look, I’m sorry, girls. I really am. And I get it, I do. I was so sure one of you would get your marks first, and I always wondered how I’d feel about it. I’m pretty sure I’d be feeling the same thing you are now.”

Maybe I still was. I looked back at the mark, at all the confusion it caused me.

“I guess… I just thought it’d be different too. Sun’s sake, I’m actually kinda scared.”

“Scared?” Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow. “Why would’ja be scared of yer cutie mark?”

“I’m not scared of it,” I waved my hooves, trying to articulate my thoughts. “I’m just… scared of what it means. Miss Twilight and Rarity always said that we choose our destiny, not have it chosen for us. She always said we’ll know what it means beyond a shadow of a doubt when we get it. And… well, I don’t.”

They looked up at that, giving me blank stares. “You don’t know what your cutie mark means?” asked Scootaloo.

“I don’t know what all of it means,” I clarified. “I know it has something to do with video games, but that’s really all it is. I wish I hadn’t been alone when I got it either, because then at least I’d have someone nearby to kinda explain it to me, maybe help me figure it out, or see what I did to earn it.”

“I guess that makes sense, but…” Scootaloo examined my cutie mark. “I mean, there’s a game controller on there. I dunno, that seems to kinda explain itself. You’re good at video games.”

“Yeah, but how is that supposed to help me? Like, what am I even supposed to do with that talent? It’s not like I can use it anywhere else. Or turn it into a destiny.”

“I dunno,” Apple Bloom pondered. “Do you know why it’s a dove?”

“I… guess?” I shrugged, glancing at the mark and examining the bird, wings spread in flight. “I named my character Dovetail. Does that have something to do with it?”

“It might,” she pondered some more, deep in thought, sipping from her—what else?—apple juice box. “Why’d you name her Dovetail, specifically?”

“I dunno. I just like doves. They’re really pretty.”

“Well…” She tapped a hoof to her chin. “In carpentry, dovetails are a kinda woodworkin’ technique that ya use to fit two pieces of wood together, like sideways puzzle pieces,” she explained. “I picked it up while helpin’ Big Mac with a nightstand. The corners of the drawer were dovetailed together.”

“Hey, that makes sense,” thought Button suddenly. “You’re our guild leader. You organized the team that beat Theralon, and you got the cutie mark when we won. Maybe it means you’re just really good at bringing people together to fight alongside you.”

“Hah! What if her special destiny is to organize an army and win the war?” Scootaloo stood onto her seat. “Sweetie Belle, Mighty Conqueror of Gryphos and Nerdy Video Game Aficionado!”

“That’s silly!” I giggled. “I play video games to have fun, not to wage war.”

“In her hooves she wields the mighty Hoofbox controller!” she continued, heedless of my comment. “Pow! Smack!” She made swinging movements, fluttering her wings with each pirouette. “Many gryphons are felled from her mighty blows!”

“Alright, alright, calm down, Taliesin,” I smirked. “Yeesh. And you call me nerdy.”

“Hah, sorry. I’ve been watching too much Game of Pones lately.”

“Yeah, soon I bet you’ll fly past me on the nerd scale.” Hah. Get it? Because she’s a pegasus.

Scootaloo stopped and fixed me with a stare so grave it could rouse the dead. “Sweetie Belle, please stick to video games and never try comedy.”

“How can I not?” I grinned wickedly. “My cutie mark’s a joke.”

Apple Bloom was suddenly overcome with an intense coughing fit, accompanied by a spatter of apple juice on the table. Score! I mentally patted myself on the back, proud of my ability to spontaneously asphyxiate my best friends through self-deprecation.

By the end of the lunch period, my mood had lightened considerably. Even if I had gotten my cutie mark by myself, it wasn’t something I had to deal with alone—my friends were there to help me, just like it should have been, just like we always planned to.

And because of them, I actually had a vague sense of what my cutie mark might mean. That was a lot more progress than I had made throughout the entirety of yesterday, and even though I had no idea what it meant for my destiny, the knowledge still warmed me.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

…Or at least, that's what I thought until we walked back into the classroom. A small crowd had gathered just outside the windows and doors, peering intently at some kind of frantic shuffling inside. Many seemed aghast, but more than a few were giggling, and there was the occasional stomp of approval.

“Huh. I wonder what’s goin’ on?” asked Apple Bloom.

Twist turned to us. “It lookth like Mith Cheerilee is trying to erathe something off the board.”

“Miss Cheerilee?” I thought out loud, then began pushing my way through the crowd. Finally making my way through the door, I turned to the front of the room. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Sweetie!” she exclaimed in a panicked voice. “Err, don’t come in here right now, the classroom’s not quite ready yet—”

Too late.

Apparently that had been a long bathroom break, because in her absence the entire chalkboard was completely inundated with all sorts of décor that Miss Cheerilee had barely gotten started on wiping down. As I emerged from the crowd, she took one look at me and froze mid-swipe, as if I had caught her in the middle of covering up a crime scene.

That analogy became a little more appropriate as my eyes left her comically statuesque posture and slowly traveled across the proclamations on the board, taking in all the phrases of jagged text.

DIRTY LITTLE GRYPHON LOVER

CAN’T SAY GAMER WITHOUT GAY

SWEETIE AND BUTTON, SITTING IN A TREE, B-R-E-E-D-I-N-G

Filling the negative space between the juvenile declarations were crude drawings of me, Button, gryphons, and some of the other Crusaders, locked in all sorts of poses and vividly… um, wow. I hadn’t even thought of using my horn for that.

All of this gravitated around a single gigantic proclamation in vibrant red chalk that dominated the center of the board.

SWEETIE BELLE THE GAYMARE

As I had stood there processing all of this, ponies had filed into the classroom to get a better look. Now, all eyes in the classroom were turned to me, awaiting my response.

“Snkkkt.”

Miss Cheerilee blinked. I think the rest of the class did, too. It was like the shot heard around the world. And somehow, their reaction just made mine even more justified.

“Aa-hahhahahaha!” I burst into tears, laughing uncontrollably. “Aaaaa-hahahahahhaHA!”

Sweetie Belle, I hereby deem you certifiably insane.

Of course I was insane. My subconscious was diagnosing me with psychosis.

Why wouldn’t it? You’re laughing at drawings of yourself doing unspeakable acts to your best friends.

I was allowed to find this funny if doing so kept me from spontaneously setting fire to the room and everypony in it.

Ah. Very well, carry on then.

So I did. All the way to the Headmaster’s office.

“Miss Belle, this is not a laughing matter. For your own benefit, please stop laughing.”

“Ahaha! Ah. Hah. Heh. Sorry.” I wiped a tear from my hoof. “Forgive me. It’s involuntary.”

“…If you say so.”

I sat in the seat before the Headmaster’s desk, grinning like I had just won the lottery. She eyed me critically over her leopard pince-nez glasses—I still had no idea why ponies think that’s in style.

“Do you have any idea who might have been responsible for this?”

“Oh, it could have been anypony!” I exclaimed. “Though it was probably Diamond Tiara.” She blanched at that. “Did you want the logical explanation? Okay! Statistically speaking, a vast majority of bullying cases in this class originate from Diamond Tiara, so it’s entirely safe to assume that future incidents will stem from the same source. But I suppose that’s an appeal to tradition. One could also say that, statistically, she’s due for a moment of innocence, because she’s done it so many times that it can’t possibly be her this time. But that would be a gambler’s fallacy.”

“Sweetie Belle. Nether fallacy applies to either scenario. You are using them incorrectly.”

“Oh, is that so? Well then! I apologize for my rather limited understanding of logic, but I suppose that’s likely due to the gross failings of my educational system. After all, I imagine they would be rather incapable of teaching me logic due to their glaring ineptitude at properly wielding it when dealing with any misbehavior on the part of Diamond Tiara!”

Delivering the final syllable of my accusation on a deceptively jolly cadence, I dropped all pretenses of joviality and glared at her.

“But then again, that might be a false cause.”

“It very well may be.” She was not amused.

Laugh, you insufferable old bat. I was a comedy maestro.

“Miss Belle, this educational institution takes discipline very seriously.” Yeesh. Tough crowd. “If we were to discover that Miss Tiara is truly culpable of any wrongdoing, we would pursue all avenues available to remedy the issue.”

I snorted at that. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I replied with finality, crossing my forelegs.

“And see it we shall,” she affirmed. “Miss Cheerilee informed me that she has already contacted the parents of the parties supposedly involved, and they should be arriving shortly.” For some reason, this seemed to set her on edge. She did not look pleased with the prospect, and kept nervously shifting her eyes to the doorway. “Miss Belle, I must stress that you watch your tongue and do not speak unless prompted. This is a structured procedure, and your cooperation and adherence to the process will make it much easier.”

Before I had a chance to respond to that, the door opened, and in walked a brown-coated stallion in a pressed business suit. I recognized him immediately—Filthy Rich, father of Diamond Tiara, Chairman of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains, and the richest man in Ponyville.

Of course the Headmaster would be nervous. The man probably paid half her salary.

Quickly on his tail was the little devil herself, who ignored me entirely, her nose fixed towards the ceiling in contempt.

Miss Cheerilee entered behind the pair—she gave me a worried look, to which I merely returned my trademark smile. Why so serious, teach? Her brow furrowed, seemingly unsure what to make of my bearing.

“Good afternoon, Headmaster,” came the genial voice of Mister Rich. “I was summoned?”

“Yes, Mister Rich.” The Headmaster cleared her throat, and formally crossed her forelegs on her desk. “We called you here at the behest of Miss Tiara’s primary teacher, Miss Cheerilee, who wished to inform you of some of your daughter’s recent behavior—”

“This is what my life is like, father!” she cried, waving a foreleg above her head, as if dramatically wounded. “Day in, day out, all of these baseless assertions!”

“Er, yes, of course,” he gave his daughter a dismissive wave. “Well, what sort of behavior are we talking about?”

“Miss Cheerilee, if you would?”

“Of course.” My teacher stepped forward, clearing her throat. “This morning, Miss Sweetie Belle here informed us of an attempt outside of school grounds to drop a flower pot on her head. The flower pot apparently originated from the second story window of another one of our students, a Mister Featherweight.”

“He didn’t do it,” I declared with finality.

“I believe I told you to stay quiet, Miss Belle,” the Headmaster intoned coolly.

“Where is Rarity? Why am I in here alone with you and Diamond’s family?”

“Be silent, Miss Belle, or I shall have you removed from my office.”

“Absolutely not,” I growled, standing up. “I will not—”

“Sweetie Belle,” interrupted Miss Cheerilee, “do as Rarity says.”

What? Whose side were you on?!

...But I had made a promise. Only for you, Miss Cheerilee.

I closed my eyes. And I breathed in, and out.

But this time, I minded.

“If I may ask,” Mister Rich spoke, ignoring me as I performed my focusing ritual, “what ultimately happened to this ‘Featherweight’?”

“We sent him home for the day,” replied Miss Cheerilee.

“Hmm. I would have expected further disciplinary action against such a brazen attack against another student… or perhaps it was an accident. Either way, I’m not sure what that has to do with my Diamond.”

“Sweetie Belle suspected your daughter of intimidating Mister Featherweight into dropping the pot.”

“Does she have any proof?”

“She has the eye-witness testimony of Pinkie Pie, who was accompanying Sweetie Belle and protected her from the falling object.”

"Ah. I take it Miss Pinkie Pie was unharmed?”

“I wasn’t informed of any injuries on her part, so I assume she is well.”

“That is good to hear. Would Miss Pie’s testimony name my daughter, Diamond Tiara, as a suspect of the attack?”

“Not as far as I am aware.”

“Then it is of no relevance to myself or my daughter. Please continue.”

Throughout this exchange, I said nothing, a flawless caricature of a perfect pony who was very much in control of herself, looking all the world as if I were attending a particularly uninteresting tennis match.

Inside, my blood churned like the Seas Beyond.

“Very well. Moving on. After lunch period, the chalkboard in Miss Cheerilee’s room was host to a rather vulgar display of personal attacks, many of which were of a highly inappropriate nature, primarily directed at Miss Belle.”

“And? You suspect my daughter?”

“Indeed. A few students have pointed to her as the culprit. Two in particular informed me that they were intimidated into doing it, though they would not say by whom.”

“Snips and Snails, obviously,” Diamond scoffed. “They probably just did it themselves and want to indict me of wrongdoing so they can get off scot free!”

“As I said, Miss Tiara, they did not name you. The other students did.”

“Diamond, hush. Let daddy take care of this.” He turned back to the Headmaster. “Was there any certifiable proof, aside from verbal testimony, that my Diamond was responsible?”

“None that we could find.”

“Very well. Then I believe this case is open-and-shut. In both reports you’ve conveyed to me, there has been no verifiable evidence to indict my daughter. She is being framed, and I do not appreciate being called out here to listen to these assertions when they are not backed with evidence. You have my sincerest condolences that your institution is attended by children who are unable to behave themselves. I share these condolences with young Miss Belle here, who must suffer for your incompetence.”

I glowered at him. He gave me a look, and I could not tell for the life of me what thoughts lay behind that expression.

“Ahem.” The Headmaster drew our attention again. “Yes, well. As you are aware, this is merely a formal procedure that we practice whenever a student stands accused of misbehavior.”

“Then, as I have stated before, you should revise those procedures. They are wholly susceptible to abuse or false alarm, and risk inconveniencing the parties involved.”

“We shall take your words into consideration.”

“That would be most wise.” He turned to me. “Miss Sweetie Belle, if I may first congratulate you on finally receiving your cutie mark. You are an upstanding young citizen of Ponyville, and I’m certain you have a bright future ahead.”

...That was unexpected. And apparently Diamond agreed, if her snort was any indicator. But I made no note of it as my decorum training kicked in, and I nodded to the stallion. “Thank you kindly, Mister Rich.”

“To that end, I truly hope that you do find the culprits involved so that they may be brought to justice. No one deserves to be slighted for their life achievements.” He gave his daughter a pointed glance—she carefully avoided his gaze.

“I appreciate your sentiments.”

“Be that as it may, however,” he continued, straightening his tie, “I would ask that you please refrain from holding my daughter responsible for your unfortunate circumstances in the future.” He gave a quick look to the Headmaster, then turned back to me again. “I assure you that no good things can come of this.”

“I—”

“Miss Belle, please remain silent,” interrupted the Headmaster.

What the hell? “You haven’t even let me speak—”

“Because, as you have so adequately proven, you have nothing of value to contribute. Be silent.”

I flinched. Thinking back, I realized something had been communicated in that look she had been given by Mister Rich—enough for her to demand my silence.

“Ahem.” All eyes returned to Mister Rich. “If we are finished here, I have important matters to attend to. Please excuse me.”

As I sat there, trying to figure out exactly had just happened, he turned to leave. But Cheerilee stood in front of him.

“You know this can’t go on forever, Filthy.”

“I know not what you mean, Miss Cheerilee. And I prefer ‘Rich’, as you know. Please excuse me.”

He stepped past her and swiftly left with his daughter.

No. You were not getting away.

I quickly stood up. “I’m leaving too. If I may be—”

“You may not, Miss Belle,” warned the Headmaster. “Stay here. We still have—”

“I'll be back in a minute,” I snarled, quickly losing my patience as Mister Rich’s form receded from view of the doorway. “If my leaving now means you have to punish me more, then you can tell me when I get back. I am leaving.”

I walked out the door, barely glancing at Miss Cheerilee, who did not stop me. Good.

I trotted down the hallway and turned to my left, quickly enough to see the pair of ponies as they approached the door out of the schoolhouse.

“Mister Rich,” I called out.

He slowly came to a stop, as did Diamond when she realized her father was no longer following her. As he turned around, I quickly realized that… I had no idea what to say, or even how to feel about this stallion. The entire exchange had happened so quickly that I was left with precious little time to digest its particulars.

Why did I chase them out again? What was I hoping to accomplish? What did I want?

“Yes, Miss Belle?” he replied, breaking me out of my musing.

My mind buzzed with questions, and none of them were adequate enough to precisely communicate how lost I was.

So I communicated them all at once.

“Why?”

For a moment, I could not discern what feelings overcame his face. But without breaking my gaze, he spoke.

“Diamond, please go on ahead without me. I shall speak with Miss Belle in private.”

“Father, what’s even the point of talking to—”

“Go.”

His order brooked no response. Sparing me only a repulsed look, she turned and left the building.

I was alone in the hallway with Mister Rich.

Neither of us moved.

Then an apologetic smile overcame his face.

“It’s complicated.”

Bullshit.

“There is nothing complicated about this, Mister Rich,” I retorted, advancing on him and dropping all pretense of decorum. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize that our claims of Diamond's behavior are not unfounded.”

He did not respond. I continued undaunted.

“In the years that I’ve been forced to be her classmate, I have not had a week of peace. And yet every single time I have tried to call attention to it, nothing happens.”

Again, no response—just that same affable smile. His silence was infuriating.

Damn it, old stallion. Answer me.

“You seem like a fair pony, yet you seem rather set on ignoring your daughter’s behavior, and somehow you have convinced the Headmaster to follow suit.”

I was now mere feet away from him. With little left to say, I stared into his eyes, letting my fury, my confusion, and all of my questions seep through my visage, accompanied only by a simple utterance that brought my questions full circle.

“Why?”

His expression never changed.

“It’s complicated.”

“It is not complicated!” I nearly shouted. “You’re enabling her bad behavior! Do you realize what she’s becoming? Is this truly what you want for your daughter—?!”

His expression turned cold. “What I want for my daughter is none of your business, and you would do well not to pry.”

“How dare you! It is absolutely—”

“Enough!” he declared. “You have said your piece, and now I shall say mine.”

He began walking slowly towards me.

“Miss Belle, despite your rather unorthodox choice in personal diversions—” Oooh, you are not making it easy for me to like you, “—you have clearly shaped up to be a remarkable young lady with a bright future. With less than a year left before your graduation, I would very much hate to see you squander such potential by pursuing a fruitless vendetta that will only end in tears.”

He closed the remaining distance between us, locking me in his gaze. His expression became severe, and I blanched at the aura of intensity that had suddenly overcome him.

“I was not joking when I told you that nothing good can come of this. But for your benefit, I shall reiterate: nothing good can come of this. I must impress that you are encroaching upon very dangerous territory, and you will suffer for it.”

His voice was so charged with unwavering conviction that it brooked no doubt, no uncertainty. It spoke as if his word were law.

“Contrary to whatever you may feel towards me or my intentions, I would very much not like to see you suffer. So consider this a warning, from stallion to mare.”

And he held out a hoof, which I had only just noticed had emerged from within his suit. I looked down and saw a tied brown pouch perched upon the tip. It jingled slightly as he shook it, making its contents very transparent.

“And consider this a gesture in good faith that you will keep your silence.”

...Did he just threaten and bribe me at the same time?

He dropped the pouch on the floor—clink—and swiftly turned to depart.

I said nothing in response—I could barely process what had just happened. But as he made to open the door leading outside, it swung open, revealing an out-of-breath Rarity.

“Er, please excuse me—” she quickly muttered.

“Miss Rarity,” spoke Mister Rich, interrupting her shock.

“Ah, Mister Rich!” she exclaimed, striding in through the open door, a sociable tone overcoming her fluster. “What an unexpected surprise.”

“Such is the nature of surprises,” he replied affably. “Though I’m afraid I must be on my way. You may need to attend to your charge. The little miss has had quite a day.”

Finally seeing me, Rarity blinked at me, probably wondering what in Sun’s name he knew of my circumstances. “O-of course. Do not let me trouble you.”

“It is no trouble. Good day, Miss Rarity.”

He departed. We both stared blankly at the door, left open in the wake of his departure.

“Sweetie Belle, now would be a very good time to catch me up.”

“Sure. It might be a moment though. My brain needs to do the same.”

“I worry about what these video games are doing to you.”

“I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Will we have enough to cover our living expenses?”

“This isn’t exactly… ladylike behavior.”

“We traded fire with the border yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, sis. I’m sorry for… everything.”

“I’m not quite sure this is what I want for my daughter’s destiny.”

Author's Note

Dedicated to the teachers that kept pushing me forward throughout my school life, somehow intent on helping me survive despite all the trouble I put them through.

Credits:
Thanks again to my editors, who both tore this chapter apart: Zaid ValRoa, who criticized, like, 90% of what's going on and demanding I clarify; and Sharp Quill, who every morning dropped yet another large stack of corrections to make. You guys are nuts. I don't pay you enough.

Author's Notes:
There is no greater crime I plead guilty for than that of my penchant for endless revision.

Originally, Chapter 3 was gonna be completely different, but I ended up delaying most of those events to Chapter 4 and writing a completely new Chapter 3 to bridge between the two, in order to lay the seeds for more of the future plotlines and delve more into the character relationships I'm trying to establish. As a result, none of the "On the next episode of Dragonball Z" quotes from last chapter have any meaning to this one. Funsies, I know! Should really go back and change that...

Between that, my renaming of Sweetie Belle's character from Swan Song to Dovetail (by the way, I renamed Swan Song to Dovetail), and the bonus chapter I threw up recently, it'll start to become pretty clear that I am addicted to revision. It doesn't help that this is such a new experiment for me.

I find myself rather curious how much of my original vision will be retained by the time I finish This Game of Ours.

By the way, that scene where Sweetie Belle bursts into laughter? It goes kinda like this.

4. The Devil You Don't

“Stand in the fire until
there is nothing left to burn away.”
—Mantle of Efrideet

Everypony was staring. Except this time, it totally wasn’t at me.

Well, okay. It mostly wasn’t at me.

“She what?!” yelled Rarity, and I flinched as several ponies in the park turned their shocked, curious gazes towards us.

I couldn’t really blame them for staring either. It wasn’t often you saw one of the town’s local heroes rampaging through Ponyville Park, shouting her head off like a crazed madmare at the town’s equally-beloved schoolteacher.

“Miss Rarity, please,” beseeched Miss Cheerilee, trotting a little faster to put herself in front of Rarity. “You need to slow down for a moment. This matter is already very delicate—”

“Absolutely not!” Rarity yelled again, whirling on the teacher. “That scoundrel tried to attack my sister! How could you be alright with this, Cheerilee?! You’re her teacher, you should be looking out for her—”

“Sis, don’t you dare blame Miss Cheerilee,” I interrupted sternly. “It’s not her fault she can’t control the school or the Headmaster. She’s just a teacher.” Miss Cheerilee gave me a reproachful look at that, and I realized how powerless I had just made her sound. Sorry, teach…

“Well, then, I’ll just have to find somepony who can!” declared Rarity, striding forward again and muttering to herself. “Ergh, if only Twilight and Spike weren’t out of town. I could just have them fire off a message to the Princesses—they’d deal with this in no time.”

“Rarity, you can’t just go to the Princesses for everything,” I said, catching up to her again. “They already have enough on their plates with running Equestria and dealing with the gryphons and stuff—”

“And why are you so dismissive about this?!” she spat, glaring at me. “You’re the one suffering in the first place! Don’t you want to resolve this?! Why are you letting her just trot all over you?!”

He bribed me.

I bit my tongue. If Rarity knew I had taken that money, she would never let me hear the end of it.

Before we left, I had seriously considered leaving the bag behind completely, but had ultimately decided to sneak it into my saddlebags while Rarity hadn’t been paying attention… which elicited no small amount of intense shame for letting him buy me out so quickly.

But then again, he probably wouldn’t have taken kindly to me leaving a pile of his bits on the floor for anyone to find. Better to make him think I accepted his bribe instead.

Still, it elicited a lot of questions, even more than before I had chased him out of the Headmaster’s office. Why did he even have a bribe on him to begin with? Had he planned on giving it to me, or somepony else, maybe the Headmaster? Why was he so desperate to control my actions that he was willing to go that far?

His voice echoed within my mind. “It’s complicated.”

I imagined that strained smile on his face. There was something Mister Rich really didn’t want anypony knowing about.

My sister’s angry venting intruded upon my hearing as my mind zoned back into reality. “...tempted to just take a chariot to Canterlot and storm the Princess’s throne room—” WHAT?! Uh, whoa, how about no?!

“RARITY!” I yelled sternly, jumping in front of her and bringing the entire party to a halt. “I need you to stop, right now, and do what you told me to do.”

Boom. The shock of me reversing her own phrase at her caught her completely off guard. Commander Shepard would be proud.

“Sweetie, I’m—”

“Do it,” I demanded, stomping a hoof. “Or Miss Cheerilee and I are ending this conversation and leaving.”

Her mouth hung open. I stood with as much confidence as I could muster... which would be easier if my heart weren’t beating madly like a jackhammer.

A few moments passed.

Then Rarity snorted.

What.

Suddenly, she burst into laughter.

What! “What’s so funny?!”

Miss Cheerilee snorted too.

I whirled on her. “Seriously?! You too?!”

This only made her burst into laughter.

WHAT THE HEL! “You guys!”

“Ahahahaha! Oh goodness,” my sister managed amid her fit of giggles, leaning on Miss Cheerilee for support. “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry, dear, but that was delightfully adorable.”

The heat rose to my cheeks. “Sis!”

“It was!” giggled Miss Cheerilee. “Did you see how she puffed out her chest?”

“Miss Cheerilee!” I flushed in embarrassment. “Ughhhh! I hate both of you so much right now.” But I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

“Oh, goodness!” said Rarity finally, her laughter coming to an end. “Oh dear, I needed that. Oof. Forgive me, Sweetie. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You were just angry,” I said, waving her off. “I don’t blame you.”

“I was indeed, but that’s no excuse,” she said with a meaningful look, her eyes now somewhat glossy—whether from the laughter or otherwise, I couldn’t tell. “I apologize, dear sister, but you must understand that I’m simply worried for you.”

“I know you are, sis, and I really appreciate it.” I trotted up to her and gave her a hug. “But seriously, we won’t get anything done by bickering in public like a married couple.”

“Er… of course, you’re right,” she said, looking around a little anxiously—most of the bystanders had returned to their previous business. Rarity coughed as a light blush adorned her cheeks. “Oh dear. That was, er, rather unbecoming of me.”

“We all have our moments,” said Miss Cheerilee, putting a comforting hoof on Rarity’s shoulder. “Especially when it involves somepony we love.”

My cheeks flushed. “Sorry for worrying you two so much.”

“Alas, worrying is just what sisters do,” said Rarity simply.

“And teachers,” Miss Cheerilee added.

“And friends,” I said, smiling up at both of them.

Wow, that was so full of cheese.

But Miss Cheerilee positively glowed in response. What could I say? It got results. And Paragon points.

“But your sister’s right.” A serious look overcame Miss Cheerilee’s face again as we continued walking through the park. “Sweetie Belle, things can’t go on like this.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?”

“There are a lot of things that we can do about it, Sweetie,” she said plainly. “Do you know why I was gone for so long during lunch today?”

“Didn’t you have to grade my… um, extra credit?” Yeah, let’s not tell Rarity about my late homework…

Miss Cheerilee blinked at that. “Err… well, yes, there was that,” she coughed. “But I was actually in to see the Headmaster as well.”

“Why?”

“To explain to her what happened this morning regarding the flower pot,” she explained. “The administration may look the other way when it comes to verbal abuse, but that was assault, plain and simple. I told her we needed to contact the authorities immediately.”

“And what did she have to say about it?” asked my sister.

Miss Cheerilee gave a heavy sigh. “She told me not to start any trouble with Diamond’s family, or I would face ‘disciplinary action’ with the school.”

“What?!” we both yelled, then quailed when we realized we had caught the attention of the park-goers again. Lowering my voice, I continued. “What did you end up doing?”

“I ignored her, obviously,” she said. My stomach dropped like a rock as I realized how much Miss Cheerilee was putting at risk. “Rarity’s right. I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to protect you, no matter what it costs me. You could have been seriously injured had Pinkie Pie not been there. And so I called Filthy Rich in, demanding Diamond be held accountable for her actions.”

“Yeah, because that went totally well,” I blurted before I could stop myself. I smacked my forehead and sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I understand. And you’re right. The Headmaster just had her own head up— er. Ahem.” She coughed. Pfft. What was I, thirteen? ...Oh wait, I totally was. “Obviously, if she’s unwilling to do anything about it, then we’ll just have to take it up with the Town Guard.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Rarity instantly.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” I said, stopping the party again. “I like the idea, a lot, but would they even believe us? You heard Mister Rich. We don’t have any evidence that she did it.”

“Well, since you need to stop by Featherweight’s home to drop off his homework, why don’t we talk to him?” Miss Cheerilee said. “If he can testify against her, and if his parents can confirm she was in the house at the time, then it has to mean something to the Guard.”

...Could it be that simple? “Are you sure it’ll work?”

“Sweetie, honestly!” piped Rarity, resuming our trot. “Have some faith in the Town Guard!”

I blinked again, then looked at my hooves as we stepped out of the park and back onto the cobbled streets beyond. Weird. Why is this so hard to believe? For such a long time I had almost completely given up on ever being able to make Diamond Tiara face justice. And yet, here was a solution, one so obvious I felt dumb for not even realizing it all day.

“I guess I had tricked myself into believing it was impossible,” I said out loud.

“Sweetie, nothing’s impossible,” said Miss Cheerilee. “Well, mostly. But there are avenues we can take. They’ve mostly been unavailable to us before, but now that Diamond Tiara’s escalated it to this point, we must simply escalate it further.”

“Indubitably! So, to that end, where does this ‘Featherweight’ live?” Rarity asked as we rounded the corner.

“It should be just around the—” she stopped suddenly mid-answer, staring. What was the hold up? I turned the corner with her to look, and…

“Oh. Huh.”

Standing in front of Featherweight’s door was Pinkie Pie, speaking frantically to two of the Town Guard—both of whom I recognized immediately as Captain Romana and Guardsman Bulwark—while a gargantuan white stallion looked on in bewilderment.

“Err, what’s going on?” asked Rarity. “Is that Featherweight’s home?”

“Yeah, it is,” I said, striding forward. “C’mon, let’s go find out what’s up.”

“…And then, just like that, my tail started twitching!” I could hear Pinkie Pie exclaim as I galloped towards the gathering in front of the door. “Can you imagine? Right when I mention my tail! I mean, that must be some kinda super cosmic koinkidink or something!”

“Erm, yes, Miss Pie,” said Captain Romana, frantically trying to re-rail Pinkie’s train of thought. “So, your tail twitched, which I should assume means that something fell from the sky?”

“Yepperoni!” she exclaimed, pointing up. “A flower pot, from that window, right above Sweetie Belle’s head! And now right above yours, too! Neat!”

They followed her hoof up.

“…Perhaps we should move, Captain,” said Bulwark, stepping aside.

“…That seems prudent,” agreed the Captain. As they did so, they caught sight of our approach. “Hmm? Isn’t that the little Belle herself?”

“Loudest of gasps!” Pinkie Pie literally exclaimed. “It totally is!”

“Captain Romana,” I said as I approached, panting from the gallop. “What’s going on?”

“Stellar timing,” said the Captain, glancing up. “I see you’ve brought company?”

“Yes, hello!” said Rarity, also huffing from the jog. “I’m Sweetie Belle’s sister and guardian, Rarity. You probably already know Cheerilee, a teacher at the school.”

“Hello, Captain,” said Miss Cheerilee, nodding, “and hello, Mister Heavyweight.”

“Miss Cheerilee,” replied the huge white pegasus at the door, who I recognized as Featherweight’s father, Heavyweight. Really, how could anyone not recognize him, with muscles that massive?

That being said, I noticed a subtle twitching of his comically-minuscule wings—the muscular stallion seemed anxious by the sudden presence of the Town Guard at his doorstep. I marveled at how such a powerful stallion could ever be made to feel apprehensive. Sun, if I hadn’t known that he was actually a pretty chill guy, I’d have been scared out of my horseshoes right now.

“Wow! All of us here at once? This is totally just the weirdest of coincidences!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie. “Unlike the flower pot,” she scowled, rounding on Mister Heavyweight, who instantly quailed. Yeesh. Well, if anyone could intimidate Ponyville’s strongest weightlifter, it was Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie, it’s alright, it’s not their fault,” I said, putting my hoof on her side. “But… how did you even know it was dropped on purpose?”

“Aw, c’mon, Bellie Boo, have some faith in your ol’ Aunt Pinkie!” she said, booping my nose. Really, Pinkie? Bellie Boo? “I know an assassination attempt when I see one!”

“…Assassination attempt?” asked Mister Heavyweight, quirking a doubtful eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe that’s a biiiiit extreme.” When were you not extreme? “But it was totes McGoats most discernibly a deliberate deed of destructive delivery, definitely done by devilish dudes!”

“Or dames,” I added.

“Please elaborate,” Romana ordered.

“Hokay! So!” Pinkie bounced over to a patch of grass that was slightly darkened by spilt soil, leaning down to stare at it closely. “Here’s some earth, chillin’. Dayme, that is some sweet earth you might say. Grouuuuuund!”

She stood up again suddenly. “Alright! Ruling out the ice caps melting, meteors becoming crashed into us, the ozone layer leaving, and the sun exploding, there is no way that flower pot could have simply dropped over here—” she pointed down again, “—from there—” she stuck a hoof out at the window sill, “—because the distance is approximately three meters, give or take a few hoofsies, and the angle at which the flower pot fell would have required an incoming force to provide enough lateral velocity to propel it over the three-ish meters between the window sill and here!”

...What just happened.

Everypony was stunned silent… which Pinkie naturally took as a sign to continue.

“So now the window’s like, ‘buck, we’re dumbasses,’ Sweetie Belle’s like, ‘what’s going on, eh?’ I’m looking at the window and going, ‘dubya tee eff, mates!’, and the window’s just like ‘well buck that’ and doesn’t answer. Which meeaaaaans—” she whooshed across the distance between herself and the guards in an instant, “—that somepony tried to nuke Sweetie Belle with a flower pot and doesn’t want us to know!”

A moment passed.

Rarity spoke first, turning to Pinkie. “And... you saw all of this happen?”

“Well duh! Otherwise I wouldn’t have needed to bust out some totally awesome mathy terms to explain it!”

“You didn’t need to in the first place,” I heard Bulwark mutter under his breath.

“That was actually rather helpful,” said the Captain, who nodded at Pinkie. “Thank you for your testimony.”

“You got it, sister!” She hoofed the stoic Captain in the shoulder, who took it without complaint.

“Well?” she said, turning to the pony in the doorway, who hadn’t moved a single inch. “Mister Heavyweight, I’m afraid to ask, were you or any of your children responsible for this?”

“Errrr…” said the stallion, clearly nervous from the sudden accusation. “This is all rather sudden…”

“Captain Romana, if I may,” said Rarity, stepping forward. “I have discussed this thoroughly with my sister and her teacher-confidant.” She gestured to myself and Miss Cheerilee. “We have reason to believe that a Miss Diamond Tiara was responsible, and that Mister Featherweight was merely an accessory to the act. I’m sure Mister—ah, Heavyweight, was it?—can verify her presence this morning.”

“I can,” he said. “A pink filly and her friend stopped by, saying they wanted to walk to school with Featherweight. It was the first time I had ever met them.”

“Any specific reason you let them in, Mister Heavyweight?” asked Miss Cheerilee, stepping forward. He appeared to relax upon her approach, finally having a familiar face to speak to.

“She said that her little gray friend had a crush on him, and wanted to introduce the two.”

“Charming,” muttered Rarity.

“Did you notice anything suspicious about them?” asked the Captain.

“They looked like they were in a bit of a hurry,” he said, his face scrunching as if drawing from memory. “I just assumed they didn’t want to be late for school.”

“I see.”

“Is Featherweight home?” Miss Cheerilee asked.

“I am,” he squeaked, peeking out from behind his father’s substantial bulk. Had he been there this entire time?

“Hello, Featherweight,” said Miss Cheerilee, approaching the little colt. “We just wanted to confirm what we asked you this morning. Is it true that Diamond Tiara goaded you into pushing the flower pot?”

“Speak freely without fear,” said the Captain. “Your testimony will appear anonymous in the public report.”

He paused for a moment, considering this, then finally nodded.

“Can you explain in more detail?” asked Miss Cheerilee.

“It happened really fast, so I don’t remember much,” he said. “They just… they kinda barged into my room while I was getting ready for school. Diamond told me to push the flower pot out really hard.”

“And?”

“I asked them why at first, and she told me to just do it. Otherwise she would… she would…” He shuddered.

“She would what, Feather?” I asked.

“She just said she would make my life worse at school,” he sniffled. "She didn't explain how. I don't know how to either."

“You don’t have to,” the Captain assured him. “Go on.”

“Well, I… I went up to the flower pot, but then saw Sweetie Belle outside. I didn’t want to h-hurt her, so I was about to step back and tell Diamond to go away… but she pushed me in the back.” He looked down at his hooves in shame.

“Thank you, honey,” said Miss Cheerilee.

“Well there you have it!” exclaimed Rarity. “A testimony has been wrought, and I believe you two have a culprit to bring to justice! Now, if we may step over here a moment… ah, Miss Cheerilee, would you care to join us…?”

As Rarity led my teacher and the guards off to the side, I approached the door with a smile. “Hey, Feather. You alright?”

“H-hi, Sweetie,” he replied, his voice shaky. “I… I think I am now. Sorry for… this morning. You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” I assured him. “It wasn’t your fault or anything.”

“O-okay. Thanks. Sorry.” He hid his eyes behind the bangs of his mane. Really, he didn’t need to be so shy…

“It’s always a pleasure to see you passing by every morning,” Heavyweight said, trotting over. “Hate to hear that we almost got ya bashed on the head for it.”

“It’s alright, you couldn’t have known,” I replied, sighing in relief. “I’m feeling much better now that we’re close to getting it resolved.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said with a gruff nod. “I hope this ‘Diamond’ girl gets what’s comin’ to her, ’specially if she’s been taking advantage of my son.” He laid a hoof on Featherweight’s head.

“Daaaaad,” he grumbled.

I giggled. “I certainly hope so.” I pulled a stack of papers from my saddlebags. “Here, I brought you a copy of my notes from today. Do you need me to walk you through them?”

“That… that’d be nice,” he murmured. We looked up at Mister Heavyweight.

“Heh. Sure, go on. I’ll talk with the Guard for a bit, make sure everything’s squared away. I’ll let your sister know what you’re up to.”

“Much appreciated as always,” I curtseyed at him, which he returned with a slight nod of his head before joining Rarity. I turned to Featherweight, smiling. “Well? Shall we step inside?”

“…and a legion is split into ten cohorts, each of which consists of six centuriae,” I explained, drawing diagrams on the paper that I had placed on Featherweight’s edge of the dining table.

“How many soldiers are in a centuriae?” he asked, scooting forward in his seat to better see the diagram.

“Eighty soldiers per.” I drew a number on the paper.

“So that’s four hundred and eighty per cohort?”

“I… think so?” Seriously, Feather, don’t rely on me for math questions.

“Wow,” he said in awe, tracing his hoof along the diagrams I had drawn. “That’s almost five thousand per legion. And if they have over a hundred legions…”

“That’s over four hundred thousand soldiers in their entire army,” I confirmed, remembering the count straight out of the lecture. Suck it, math.

He gaped. “How do they even get that many soldiers?”

“Mandatory conscription,” I explained. “They draft citizens from the populace during wartime.”

“Mandatory? You mean, like, without permission?”

“They don’t need permission. It’s part of their law. Every gryphon is trained to fight when they start school, knowing that they might have to serve in the army someday.”

He looked pretty horrified at the prospect. “That’s nuts…”

“Yeah. That’s what happens when your country is built on military tradition. And that’s why we really don’t want to go to war with them. They’d run us over.”

“Wow.” He traced his hoof over the diagram and the staggering size of the forces it represented. “Say, how do you know so much about this stuff, anyways?”

“You mean aside from the lecture?”

“Well, yeah.” He started shuffling through the notes I had taken for him. “I don’t see anything here about gryphons learning to fight in school. And besides,” he said, smirking to me, “usually you don’t pay attention in class, and I have to teach you.”

“Gee, Feather, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I teased, giving him a light hoof to the shoulder. “If you must know, I have a gryphon friend named Freya that I play video games with. She’s a legionnaire in the Gryphosi army, and sometimes we like to talk about what life is like there.”

“Huh. That’s pretty cool, I guess.” He sipped from his water and pondered for a moment. “If she’s in the army, how does she play games?”

“They have a lot of free time when they’re off-duty, and she’s probably on deployment somewhere close enough to the border for her to get Stratonet access.” I wracked my memory for the conversations I’d had with Freya. “I don’t remember what city. I think she gets moved every few months?”

“Really? She’s a soldier, and still has time to play?”

“Well, yeah. They’re not fighting, they’re just garrisoned.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Errr… they’re standing guard in the city, in case we attack.”

In the distance, I heard the front door open and shut. Wow. That only took, like, an hour.

“But… we won’t attack them, right?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, then tried to remember what I could. “At the very least, I’m pretty sure we said that we wouldn’t.”

“Then why are the gryphons guarding a city?”

“It’s ’cause they don’t trust us not to,” came Mister Heavyweight’s voice from the archway leading into the dining room as he walked through. “Just so you know, kiddo, we’ll need to head to the station later tonight to offer the Guard an official written testimony.”

“Alright, dad,” Featherweight replied.

“Thanks again for this,” I said to Mister Heavyweight. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

“Justice isn’t an inconvenience,” he replied, smiling to me as he went to the fridge to fetch some water. “What’cha kids talking about the gryphons for, anyways?”

“Political science,” Featherweight answered.

“Yeah, we learned a lot of interesting stuff today,” I said. “We’re getting started on the Gryphosi Cold War.”

“Interesting, huh.” Mister Heavyweight trotted over to the table. “You into studying warfare?

“Err, kinda?” I answered, unsure of exactly what to say to that. “I just want to understand why gryphons and ponies are so angry with each other right now.”

He grunted and sat down with us. “Mmph. Not a fun subject.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s ‘fun’, no,” I said thoughtfully. “But it’s certainly important and interesting.”

He grunted again at that. “Hard to be interested in the prospect of death and destruction.” He glanced at my flank with narrowed eyes. “Though I guess that’s all you do in video games these days, so I bet you’re used to it.”

Huh? That came out of nowhere. “…Sir?”

The heavyset stallion furrowed his brow. He leaned against a kitchen counter. “Can I be frank with you?”

I leaned back in my seat. “Certainly.”

“You’re a real sweetie, Miss Belle,” he said, grinning at his own pun, but a frown quickly retook his face. He swirled some of the water in his cup, apparently working out his words. “So know that this comes from a place of love when I say that I worry about what these video games are doing to you.”

I blinked. “…Sorry, I don’t think I quite follow. What are they doing, exactly?”

“Trainin’ ya for war.”

…What. “Mister Heavyweight, I appreciate your concern, but these video games are nothing like real life,” I explained before he could get the wrong idea. “I couldn’t gain any actual fighting experience from them if I tried.”

“I’m not saying that they’re training you to fight,” he said, his eyes wandering as he tried to find the right language. “They’re training you to get used to fighting. So that death don’t mean much to you when it happens, or when you’re handing it out yourself.”

I blinked again, trying to process what he was saying.

“When you play these games, the goal is to kill more than everypony else. You get points for killing ponies and extra points for shooting them in the head and such. And when you get killed, you just come right back up and kill some more. That about right?”

“I… suppose?” I thought about it a bit. That only really applied to the Crucible, where players went to fight each other—but the rest of the game was about playing through a story, exploring lost worlds, and fighting together with friends. “But that’s kinda just like hoofball, right? You compete against other players and try to earn points.”

“But earning points doesn’t involve killing ponies, Miss Belle.”

“I… I guess it doesn’t.” I looked down at my hooves. It sounded really morbid, when he put it that way.

“All I’m saying is,” he continued, breaking me from my reverie, “ponies don’t just come back to life, Miss Belle. And that includes you and anypony you might fight. I just hope you remember that if things get rough. I don’t want you thinking it’ll be fun to treat war like one of your video games.”

For some reason, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. Prior to my hobby going public, I had never been challenged about it on this level before, never thought about what it was that I was doing. Not even Rarity had questioned me this much.

I breathed in, and breathed out. Then l spoke.

“I don’t want to fight anypony—or anyone, Mister Heavyweight,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “And I don’t want to go to war either.”

I thought about all the blood I had spilled for sport, all the enemies I had slain. And I thought about how, even though I had been the one to gun them down, the bullets weren’t real after all.

“I wish the war could just be inside the video game, where I could play it for fun without anyone getting hurt—not in real life, where I have to hurt ponies for real.”

I thought about Legionnaire Freya of the Gryphosi Army, standing guard day after day, dreading our aggression, watching our borders for any sign of attack… only to return to a world where she fought by their side instead. A world that didn’t really exist.

I looked up at him again. “I just want us to live in harmony, like we always have.”

He studied my expression for a moment before nodding his head. “I’m glad to hear it. Don’t ever let go of that.”

This time, I spoke with confidence. “I never intend to.”

POW.

“Hah! You’re crushing them! Send them home crying!”

Loading fresh rounds into my Hawkmoon, I stepped over the body of my fallen opponent and popped my head over the low wall he had been hiding behind, only to see two enemy Crusaders waiting a dozen meters away on the other side. They both immediately turned to face me—horseapples!—and I ducked just in time for a surge of enemy fire to sail over my head. “Shadow, a little help?!”

“I gotcha covered!”

I peeked around the corner and saw the stallion emerge from a hole in the side of a burnt-out building. His sniper rifle rang out thrice—two rounds impacted one of them, taking him down immediately; another shot barely managed to skim the second as she slid behind a low wall.

“She ducked out of my sight!”

“I’ll deal with her,” I grunted, emerging from cover and training my hand cannon on her head. She turned to face me, and her eyes widened—POW. A single shot pierced between her eyes and her body crumpled to the floor.

“Way to steal my kill, Dove,” he said, ejecting an empty mag from his rifle.

“Pfft, whatever,” I replied, waving at him in thanks. “You got a kill and an assist, quit complaining.”

“Yeah, well I’m only two away from— BEHIND YOU!”

I whirled around, only to get a rifle butt to the face. “OW!” My energy shields flared out of existence and I staggered back as a gryphon leveled her assault rifle at me. “Aw, c’mon—!”

Pssssschew!

Several balls of glowing energy burst through the gryphon’s chest, instantly disintegrating her into a fine powder. As the dust cleared, I saw a unicorn standing on the other side, holding a smoking fusion rifle. She trotted forward and stuck a hoof out to me.

“Thanks for the save, Stranger— horseapples!” I fired a few shots between her legs from my position on the ground, and an enemy Crusader slumped to the floor behind her.

“I suppose that’s one for one,” said Stranger, grabbing my outstretched foreleg and pulling me up to my legs.

“Hah!” I dusted off my legs. “Like we last long in here anyways.”

Bratatat! Bratatat! Bratatat!

I twirled around towards the source of the noise, only to catch the sight of Shadow’s lifeless body falling out of her spot in the building.

“I see what you mean,” Stranger said behind me.

“C’mon!” We leapt over the cover, and she ducked behind it to cover our flank while I approached the opening, priming a grenade and tossing it in. One bright flash later and a second body came flying out.

Then, oddly enough, a third head peeked out. “Was that your grenade?” asked Zaid.

“Yeah. Sorry, did I steal your kill?”

Zaid’s ear twitched—he whirled around, drew his shotgun and fired twice into the dark interior before turning back to me. “Nah, it’s good.”

I laughed. “C’mon, let’s go find Mash.”

He jumped down, and we entered into a tunnel on our right, with Zaid taking point—CRACK! BLAM! Zaid bashed an enemy standing right outside the tunnel before pumping him full of buckshot and sending his body flying. As we emerged, we were met with the sound of gunshots, explosions, and nasally maniacal laughter.

“Well, we found Mash,” said the Stranger dully.

He stood on the husk of a busted truck, firing potshots in seemingly random directions. “Hahahahaha! Ten kill streak! C’mon, who wants some?!” A stallion jumped onto the truck, snarling only long enough for Mash to send a knife sailing from his hoof into the stallion’s forehead, knocking him off the truck. “Booyah!”

“Twenty seconds left!”

“Looks like the kid’s having fun,” said a voice to our left, and Freya emerged from behind a wall, favoring a wing.

“Yeah, he’s on a kill streak, by the sound of it,” I shrugged. “Think he’ll be able to overtake me before the match is over?”

“Nah, he still needs three kills to beat ya,” she said, casually leaning on her Thunderlord. “I mean, unless his Golden Gun is ready—”

“SUUUUUPER!” Mash screamed in the distance, glowing with solar energy as he whipped out a glowing hand cannon from his hip with a twirl and pointed it into the distance. POW! “One!” He turned around. POW! “Two!” He turned around again. POW! “SERIOUSLY?! How’d I miss that?!” As he dropped the empty revolver and drew his scout rifle, a grenade clinked at his feet. “Awww, you gotta be kidding—”

BOOM. His body went sailing through the air, and my teammates collapsed into a pile of laughter. Oh, if only I could save the look on his face—oh wait, I could!

As the match ended, my vision flashed, permanently recording the sight for all time.

“A single victory doesn’t win a war, but it’s a start. Good work.”

“Aww, c’mon!” Mash grunted, hiding half his face behind his rifle. “This isn’t funny.”

“It totally is!” I giggled. “Look at your face!” I showed the photo to the rest of our squad. Zaid snorted, Stranger smiled softly, and Shadow all but burst into laughter.

“You guuuuyysss,” he nagged. “Ugh. And I was so close to finally taking first from ya too, Sweetie!”

“Not todaaaa~y,” I sing-songed. Unfortunately for Mash, I had always been the better gamer.

He stuck his tongue out at me. “Whatever! I’m gonna go check out what the Gunsmith has in stock today. Be back in a bit.” As he departed, I leaned back to relax before the magnificent view of the City from the Tower’s balcony.

Suddenly, an armored gryphon flew over the edge, perching softly on the railing. “Hey guys.”

“Hey, Freya! Nice cape you got there,” said Zaid, noticing the flowing silks that now adorned her back.

“Thanks. Finally had enough to get it. Man, that took a while to save up for.”

“Quit complaining, you have more free time than I do,” I said.

“That’s funny, coming from the schoolgirl,” she grunted in response.

“How was it you described deployment, previously?” asked Shadow. “‘Long stretches of utter boredom punctuated by intermittent moments of sheer terror’, or something to that effect?”

“Yep. I mean, the off-days are real quiet and boring and all, but those few moments tend to be pretty terrifying.” She shivered a bit, visibly ruffling her feathers.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

“Yeah. We traded fire with the border yesterday afternoon for a few hours.”

I jolted at that. “Wait, seriously?”

“I heard,” said Stranger as she relaxed placidly upon the edge of a planter. “No casualties, I hope?”

“Nah, nothing new. Just some mortars and small arms fire into the DMZ,” said the gryphon, preening at a wing. “I’m honestly not too worried, our defenses are pretty rock-solid. But… well, let’s just say I’d rather not.”

“Sounds like the mighty Gryphosi legionnaire’s afraid of a few little ponies,” said Zaid with a smirk.

“Shove it, Arabian,” she said with a grin, but her expression softened. “You don’t wanna know what it’s like standing on those ramparts, wondering if there’s a sniper scope trained on your head.”

Sun above, that did not sound pleasant.

I glanced at my clanmates, and noticed the mood had noticeably darkened.

“Hey,” I said, walking over to sit next to the gigantic gryphon. “I’m sure it won’t get bad. We’ll find a way to fix things. Our Princesses will make sure of that.”

She sighed in response to that, but gave me a wan smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so.”

I grinned back. “If all else fails, I’ll go over there myself and give ‘em a stern talking to.”

“Hah! Dovetail playing diplomat? I could see that,” she chuckled. “It’ll be like one of those cheesy Applewood movies where the little girl runs into the middle of the battlefield, screams ‘stop fighting, can’t you see you’re tearing us apart’, and everyone puts down their guns and hugs the enemy with The Heart Carol blasting in the background.”

“Pfft! Nah, nothing dramatic like that. I’ll just drag you out to the border, set up a few stratoscreens, and we can play some video games together.”

“Yeah, uh, might not wanna do that. We kinda put down some landmines between us and Hoofington. I’d rather not have bits of dead filly on my wings.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” I boasted. “Check the Kill-Death Ratio.”

“Already did, actually,” she noted. “I looked at the Crucible leaderboards on the way here. Dovetail jumped a hundred places just from today’s fights. I think her KDR's, like, one of the top fifty in the world now or something.”

“Quite the achievement,” said Stranger in admiration.

“Eh, it’s just a video game,” I shrugged.

“‘Check the Kill-Death Ratio,’” Freya mimicked in a screechy voice.

“Oh, shove off,” I hoofed her in the side. “I do not sound like that.”

“Actually, you kind of do,” quipped Zaid. I gave him a flat look, and he grinned with a helpless shrug.

“Seriously though, kid, you’re a monster,” Freya continued. “I’d hate to be on the other end of your hand cannon.”

“Today I learned the real reason why Freya doesn’t want to go to war with Equestria,” teased Zaid. “She’s scared of Dovetail’s KDR.”

“I vote we stop talking about how I have no life,” I grumbled.

“And how!” exclaimed Shadow. “I don’t think anyone in our clan has topped you in a match before.”

“There have been occasions,” hummed Stranger, “where I have out-scored her.”

“That’s because you have space magic,” muttered Zaid. “Wooooooo.” He wobbled his hooves. “Four guys trying to capture a single base? Just Nova Bomb ‘em from range.”

“Perhaps you should switch it up a bit, hmm?” she suggested. “Try playing as a Striker, like Dovetail. You may perform better if you play offensively with melee attacks, rather than defensively with bubble shields.”

“Have you seen him play Striker?” chirped Shadow, who had somehow become engaged in a spirited tic-tac-toe match against Freya on the floor. “He dies in, like, two seconds without his defensive spells.”

“Even Strikers have to play defensively,” I said. “Listen for footsteps, wait behind corners. Attack as they emerge.”

“Sure thing, scamp,” he said, tousling my mane. “I’ll just magically acquire your legendary sense of hearing.”

“Just play with headphones on!” I exclaimed, straightening my mane.

“I can’t help but be amused,” said Stranger, “that a majestic Saddle Arabian stallion is being given combat advice by a filly that’s literally one-third his size.”

“Shut up, Stranger,” we both responded in tandem. She chuckled at that.

“Hey guys!” yelled Mash from a distance. He appeared to be followed by an… unarmored civilian?

“Mash?” I sat forward.

“What’s up with the plus-one, kid?” Freya asked. Everyone looked up at that.

“So, uh, yeah this dude randomly just came up to me while I was shopping and asked for an interview,” he explained, indicating the pony, a fedora-topped unicorn in a pressed suit.

“Howdy!” he said cheerfully. “Y’all part of Sanctuary?”

“Yeah, that’s us,” I said, hopping to my hooves and approaching him. “What can we do for you?”

“Nice ta meetcha! You must be Dovetail.” He grabbed my hoof and started wildly shaking it. “Though, if I’m being completely honest, I kinda expected you to be taller.”

“Careful now!” Freya chortled. “Kid’s the meanest shot in the Crucible these days.”

“I’ll bet! I saw the leaderboards!” He grinned, then took off his hat. “I’m Noteworthy with the Ponyville Press, and I wanted to interview you folks about your World First clear of the Citadel of Infinity!”

“Hey, I’ve met you before!” I exclaimed, recognizing his name, even though he wore a different body. “Didn’t you work with my sister on that Fashion Week article last year?”

“I did! Then that must mean…” He blinked. “Miss Sweetie Belle?!”

“Hah! Small world,” chuckled Freya.

“You’re Dovetail?” He chortled heartily. “Wow! That’s magnificent! And… wait a minute, didn’t you just get your cutie mark yesterday?” Everyone suddenly looked at me, wide-eyed in surprise.

Uh, horseapples.

“Wait, what?!” exclaimed Zaid. “The scamp scored her cutie mark?!”

“Yep!” nodded Noteworthy enthusiastically. “I saw her with it just this morning! My editor already has you lined up to be listed in the Cutie Mark Chronicles for tomorrow!”

“She didn’t mention it at all!” said Freya.

“Oh… right! Well, uh, that happened!” I grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of my head. “Surprise?”

“What did she get it for?” asked Zaid.

“For video gaming!” Noteworthy exclaimed before I could say anything. “It’s a dove with a video game controller in its claws! Wow— a dove, Dovetail, how did I not see the connection?!”

“Fascinating,” said Stranger. “Didn’t we clear the Citadel the evening before?”

“Wait, waitaminute,” interrupted Freya. “You got your tramp stamp for clearing the Citadel of Infinity?!”

“Oh shut up, you guys!” I buried my face in my hooves. A round of awed chuckles was shared by the group.

“I believe congratulations are in order for our young Dovetail,” said Stranger. “That’s quite the achievement.”

Déjà vu, much? “Didn’t you just say that, like, ten minutes ago?”

“This is much different, Dovetail,” she said, stepping off the planter. I was wrapped in a hug. “You’re becoming a mare. I’m so very proud of you.”

Suddenly, I was awash in a sea of hugs.

“Yeah, kiddo. Congratulations.”

“Glad I was there to help you get it!”

“Congratulations.”

“…Thanks, Stranger.” I grinned. “Thanks, you guys. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A shutter clicked. I looked up and saw Mister Noteworthy holding a camera up to us, grinning mischievously. “Heh, sorry, couldn’t resist! This is a great scoop, you have no idea. With this and your cutie mark, I’m sure to get a story onto the front page. Err, well, if you guys are still interested in the interview, at least.”

“Sure, I’m down for one!” I nodded.

“Oof, sorry, I’ll have to ditch,” said Freya, looking at her watch. “It sounds like fun and all, but I’m on guard duty tonight.”

“I must depart as well,” said Stranger, standing up. “It is that time of night, after all. I wish you pleasant tidings.”

They both blinked out of existence.

“Well, looks like it’ll just be us four!” I kicked back, smiling pleasantly at Mister Noteworthy. “So, what’ll it be?”

“Excellent! First thing’s first…” He whipped out a notepad. “How much time do you spend playing this game per day?”

...Welp.

I strode downstairs for dinner.

The lights were off. I could hear frantic whispering, the telltale scratching of a chair, a slight brush against carpet. Sometimes I wondered if the grownups actually thought this stuff worked.

But I put on a smile and stepped onto the landing of the showroom.

Here we go.

“CONGRATULATIONS!”

All the lights came on at once. Streamers flew everywhere, everypony popped out of their obvious hiding places, and in an instant I was swarmed with hugs and kisses and ew, dad, put on some deodorant, you smell hardcore.

“We’re so happy for you!” exclaimed Rarity with a brilliant smile.

“Proudest moment ever!” cheered father.

“Our little baby’s growing up!” cooed mother.

“Way ta go, Sweetie!” cheered Apple Bloom.

“Grats, egghead!” exclaimed Scootaloo.

“You’re the first Crusader to make it!” grinned Button Mash.

Despite nearly suffocating on my father’s foul fumes, I grinned like an idiot. Dad, and mom, and big sis, and even the other three Crusaders... all here to celebrate this moment in my life. After the day’s events, it was the greatest feeling in the world.

“Now!” I felt myself being lifted up by my father. “Let’s see what mark decided to adorn my magnificent daughter—” he paused mid-sentence, staring at my flank with a strange, stupefied look… the same one I had seen on Rarity’s face yesterday.

Did she seriously not tell them what my mark was before they came here?!

“Is… is that a bird?” he asked with a quizzical expression.

“Holding a… video game?” said my mother with a similar look.

“Y-Yeah?” I replied, not quite meeting their gaze.

“No, a controller!” Button corrected like an idiot. “For video games!”

“Err, yes! Uh, that’s remarkable. A cutie mark for video games!” said my father again. Mother glanced sideways at him. I broke into a cold sweat, turning to Rarity in panic.

“Er. Oh, yes! It’s rather fetching, no?!” she exclaimed. “Look at the gracefulness of the dove’s flight! Clearly it speaks of her elegance.”

“And I heard doves are super smart!” added Apple Bloom, catching on. “Just like Sweetie Belle!”

“It seems quite... graceful and keen, I suppose,” said mother in hesitation.

“And doves are super agile, too!” chimed Scootaloo.

“Yeah, she’s got super-amazing motor skills to prove it!” proclaimed Button.

“Hah!” said father. “I’ve always been proud of her steady hooves. Just like her sister’s!”

Within moments, the tension lifted, and everypony was all smiles and happiness again. Despite the momentary awkwardness, I couldn’t help but grin along with them as we celebrated my coming-of-age.

For much of the night, everypony was in high spirits, and I nearly forgot about all of my embarrassment, my self-doubt, and the scrutiny of the rest of my schoolmates. All that mattered at that moment was that the ponies I loved were happy for me.

Well, okay, that and they were more than willing to stuff me silly with my favorite foods to prove it. Always a plus!

Yeah, a plus indeed. To your weight.

Shut up, self.

“See, I knew it was a good idea to give that ol’ Marendo to her!” said dad, pointing a potato-laden fork at me.

“I can still remember you picking up that toy as a little foal,” mom said, looking upwards with a wistful expression. “She used to chew at the buttons like it was a rose-leafed cookie!”

“Hah! A rose indeed, Primrose,” exclaimed father. “She was stepping into shoes you couldn’t fill.”

“Indeed?” she hummed. “I’m curious to know if it was to fill my shoes or yours.”

“Ooh, that sounds like a family challenge!” exclaimed Apple Bloom.

“HAH!” he slammed his fork into the table. “GAME ON!”

Of course, we had busted out the old Marendo and brought down the stratoscreen from my room. Soon enough, crammed in front of the game were four family members piloting four racers and their four karts around a road of rainbows, with the other Crusaders cheering us on as my entire family fought for first. Naturally, I decimated them all—this game was foal’s play compared to the stuff I’d been playing recently.

“Unbelievable!” panted father as I sped past him. “How are you so good at this?!”

“Sorry,” I said. “I just kinda worked out the most efficient way to drift-boost.”

“I don’t even understand how you can have that sense,” my mother said. “You have absurd timing.” She had already set down her controller long ago, and was simply watching my screen as I deftly maneuvered around the track.

“If dancing and fencing have taught me anything,” I said as I sped through the finish line, “it’s that timing is extremely important.”

“Well!” She fanned herself. “Consider me impressed that you managed to somehow integrate our instruction with your games.”

“I learn from the best,” I said happily, smiling at Rarity, who barely noticed as she—

“Oh I give up!” said Rarity exasperatedly, dropping her controller. “I keep falling off! What kind of absurd pony decides to construct a positively garish rainbow racing track in space?!”

“I bet Dash would,” snickered Scootaloo.

“I can’t imagine what kinda funky ‘shrooms Rainbow must have been on to come up with somethin’ this loony,” commented Apple Bloom.

“Oh, she’s definitely on something alright!” growled dad, who followed suit with the rest of my family. “Sweetie must be some kind of savant to stay on course. No one can ever catch up to her!”

“I bet I can!” exclaimed Button, leaping forward and snatching up the controller.

“I’d like to see you try,” I said with a grin.

“You’re on!” he shot back.

“Hey, me too!” exclaimed Scootaloo.

“I am so gettin’ in on this!” said Apple Bloom.

The other three Crusaders took their places to my right, all with manic delusions of glorious victory gracing their expressions. Oh, how ready I was to wipe the smirks off their faces.

“First one to beat Sweetie Belle gets a cutie mark!” exclaimed Button.

“Oh heck yeah!”

And so, the Cutie Mark Crusaders began their life-or-death struggle against me, Sweetie Belle, undefeated champion of the Rainbow Road. The excitement was enough to even get the rest of my family excited, and they cheered us on with great vigor.

As we raced along the track, I spared a look to the other Crusaders, all intensely focusing their utmost effort towards defeating me as if it were the most important thing they would ever accomplish in their lifetimes. A warmth surged forth in my chest—only a day ago, I had been so worried that they’d resent me for being the first to get my cutie mark. But as we all competed against each other, I felt an incredible sense of unity with them. Not only were they happy for my ‘victory’, they wholly supported its nature.

It was in that moment that I felt, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my bond with these three—my fellow Crusaders, my very best friends—was the strongest it had ever been in our entire history knowing each other. And I vowed to never doubt them again, to never allow this incredible friendship to falter.

“BOOM!” shouted Scootaloo with glee. “Sonic rainboomed!”

My eyes shot back to the screen. Scootaloo had ferociously blasted me off the track and zoomed past. She stuck a tongue out at me.

I took it back. These scrublords were going down.

About half an hour later, we all relaxed in Rarity’s living room parlor upon its various sofas.

“Hah. Sweetie Belle. A video gamer!” dad said, basking in the pride of having witnessed his daughter achieve a string of virtually-unchallenged victories. “Never would have guessed.”

“Indeed,” said the mother. “I’m surprised that she can find so much joy in these things.”

“Yeah, they’re kinda awesome,” I said, smiling. “Rarity helped me get a Hoofbox a few weeks ago after I showed her my report card.”

“Oh really? One of those newer advanced machines, eh?” said father in a curious tone. “I’m tempted to take a look.”

“You definitely should, it’s amazin’,” agreed Apple Bloom. “We were watchin’ her playin’ it when she first got it. I didn’t really know what was goin’ on, but it was real pretty. S’almost like yer there.”

“That sounds rather impressive,” said mother. She glanced at Rarity. “How did you two afford it? Aren’t those usually a couple thousand or so?”

“Well, err, Sweetie Belle saved up quite a bit.” Rarity chuckled. “Though I did help out somewhat, taking a few extra contracts to cover the cost. I figured I should reward her for doing so well lately. It’s certainly been rather, ah, busy, but I have no regrets.”

Despite the gratitude I felt for my sister’s generosity, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of regret. She had been working non-stop since we bought it…

“Hey, if it got her a cutie mark, I’d say it was worth it!” said Scootaloo, smiling at me. “How’d you get it anyways? I mean, did you just, like, play the game really well or something?”

“‘Really well’ is apparently quite the understatement!” Rarity chuckled. “She apparently played so well she was the first in the entire world to beat it!”

“Heck yeah! I was there to see it too!” Button was suddenly standing on the arm of the couch cushion next to me, his voice taking on a dramatic tone. “The glorious Dovetail and her finest Everfree Crusaders, marching into the Citadel of Infinity, fusion rifles raised, launchers primed! They shattered the veil, fought through space and time, and finally toppled Theralon, the Confix of Time—”

“Conflux,” I corrected, giggling at how awfully dramatic he was making it sound.

“Err, yeah, Conflux of Time! Only after hours of battle did he finally fall at our hooves!” He grabbed my hoof and lifted me up so I was hanging from his grip, my rear legs barely touching the couch cushions. “And our glorious leader, Dovetail, led us, Sanctuary, through to that fateful victory!”

His rousing story was met with a blush from me and a round of applause from the room, though Scootaloo looked like she was struggling not to burst into laughter at such an overt display of complete and utter nerdiness.

“That’s rather… fanciful!” said mom, leaning back in her seat. “It sounds very intense.”

“Oh, it totally is!” exclaimed Button. “There’s lots of explosions and guns and shooting stuff! It’s wicked. You should have seen her when she saved me from getting pummelled by Theralon. Fired a few shots into his head, totally threw him for a loop. Man, I tell ya, that Hawkmoon may shoot true, but only if you know how to wield it, and no one in the world knows how to as well as Sweetie Belle!”

“…I see,” she replied hesitantly, sipping at her tea and turning to Rarity with pursed lips. “And… you helped her purchase this, er, shooting game?”

Uhh, horseapples. I felt my stomach drop as I remembered my conversation with Mister Heavyweight.

“Er, yes! Yes, I did,” Rarity replied. “I checked the game’s age rating, and made sure it was appropriate for her before moving forward with the purchase. That, and I figured Sweetie Belle was mature enough to deal with the intensity.” She nodded quickly, then suddenly her eyes lit up. “And to be frank, even I was rather captivated by the story! They do seem to spend a great deal of time discovering and exploring lost lands and worlds. It’s all rather romantic, if I do say so myself!”

Omigosh thank you Rarity you are the bestest most wonderfulest sister ever. You get extra snuggles after this is over. And maybe breakfast too.

“Yes, it certainly seems like it. And all this about time traveling, and citadels, and confers…”

“Conflux,” I corrected again with a grin.

“Er, yes, that,” said mother, leaning back in her seat. “These video game stories certainly are getting rather complicated, aren’t they? What’s the history behind this, er, ‘Dove Talon of Sanctuary’?”

“Oh, I came up with those!” I said, happy to help divert the conversation. “Dovetail is the name of my character—she’s a Titan, a warrior who wields lightning fists of justice in battle! And Sanctuary is a guild that I run. It’s like an organization in the game; we have a lot of players from all over the world in it, so I named it as a way to tell anyone they were welcome and safe in my guild—”

“Hang on,” father interrupted. “Anyone? Do you mean other characters in the game?”

“…No, actually real ponies,” I said, my smile faltering. “I play with them over the Stratonet. You know how that works, right?” …Right?

“Yeah, we actually know some really cool people too!” Button said. “There’s this pair of ponies that are all super mysterious and stuff, a stallion from Saddle Arabia with a funny accent, and we’re even friends with a gryphon!”

Father’s face grew more and more pale with each addition to the list. “I… I see…” He gave an uneasy glance to mother. “I didn’t actually realize the Stratonet could be used for such a purpose.”

“And I didn’t realize… gryphons and Saddle Arabians had access to it,” she added.

“Yep! Though sometimes it’s tough—our play sessions can get really long, and it’s kinda difficult to synchronize everypony’s— uhh, everybody’s work and school schedules between timezones—”

“Long, you say?” dad quirked an eyebrow. “How long, exactly?”

“Hush, Button,” Rarity interjected before he could open his mouth again.

“Rarity, dear?” asked mother. “Exactly how much time does Sweetie Belle spend playing video games every day?”

Rarity’s smile faltered. So did mine. This was… not going well.

“Er… usually it’s around three to five hours a day,” she explained hesitantly.

“Usually?”

“It… occasionally exceeds that amount.”

“I… Is that so,” said father haltingly.

An uneasy silence followed this proclamation.

“Rarity, dear,” mother said, “may we speak to you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“C-certainly, mother…”

They stood up and trotted out of the room. I was left alone with Button, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo, who had silently watched the ordeal with uneasy looks on their faces. A heavy stillness pervaded the room.

It was a few tense moments before they emerged again, Rarity looking somewhat frazzled, and mother and father with strained smiles on their face. They all took their seats again.

“Ahem,” said father. “Sweetie Belle, your sister has informed me of your rather stellar school record over the last few years. And, of course, we wouldn’t want to hinder her attempts to reward you. But, ah…”

“We’re a bit worried that… well, you’re doing something rather unsafe, dear,” interjected mother. “These… strangers? A stallion from Saddle Arabia? A gryphon?”

“And the amount of time you’ve been spending on these… video games!” continued father. “Over five hours a day? I mean, I can certainly understand two at most, but… do you intend to fry your own brain? What if it starts to get in the way of school?”

I found that I wasn’t quite able to answer.

“You’ve seen her grades,” said Scootaloo, doing so for me. “They might have been really bad before, but they’ve improved a lot. Even way back when, she was always one of the smartest ponies I knew. Now, she could probably get into any academy she wanted.”

I gave Scootaloo a weak smile, which she returned.

“I… suppose,” he conceded. “But is she staying healthy?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Apple Bloom, joining her friend. “I mean, sometimes she’ll kinda… well, she’ll wink out for a couple days at a time so she can focus on her, er, ‘raids’? But even then, I’d be okay with her usin’ her free time however she wants, ’cause she still spends a lot of it with us, and we’re always out and about! It’s not like she’s some kinda changeling or somethin’ that hides in the dark all the time.”

“That’s… refreshing to hear, I suppose,” said dad, easing back into his seat. I felt my confidence flare.

Thanks, you guys. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Yet, be that as it may,” coughed mother. “This isn’t exactly… ladylike behavior.”

I quirked my eyebrow at mom, daring her to continue… but fearing what she would say if she did.

“We’re just… worried that you might be doing something, er, unusual, dear,” she continued. “I mean… I used to dabble in these games in my youth, but it was never more than a few minutes at a time…”

“What your mother is saying is that, generally, girls your age don’t exactly, er… play video games, especially not to your extent.”

“That’s not fair,” said Button, standing up. “It’s what she loves. It’s her cutie mark. It’s her destiny.”

“I’m not quite sure this is what I want for my daughter’s destiny,” mom blurted out.

The statement slammed into my face like a sledgehammer, and all of the fears and memories from today came rushing back to me.

“Look,” said Apple Bloom. “We already told you, she doesn’t do that all the time—”

“It’s still far too much. There are many other hobbies that are certainly far more wholesome,” she interjected again. “Why not master sewing, like your sister? Or perhaps refine your voice? Something more… befitting a young lady!”

I felt myself shaking in my seat. Why here? Why now? Why them?

“Primrose, dear—”

“No, sit down, Magnum! This has been bothering me this entire evening. I am going to have words with my daughter.” She stood up and walked straight up to me, putting her hoof under my chin. “Sweetie, is this what you plan to do with the rest of your life? To hole up in a room and play with your toys for the rest of eternity?”

I looked up at her, speechless.

“What would other girls say about you? What would the colts think? What of your future husband? And your future children?”

“Hey, that’s not fair at all!” interjected Button angrily. “I’m a colt, and I think she’s perfectly fine!”

“Yeah!” joined Scootaloo. “Sweetie Belle might be a huge egghead, but she’s still a totally normal—”

“Be silent!” she shrieked at the two, throwing them a nasty glare. “This is my daughter and you would do best to stay out of our family matters! Especially on the topic of normalcy, you garish little scoundrels! I have something to say about your little ‘crusader’ business, and you will have your turn soon enough!”

Within seconds, she was back on me. “To say nothing of the fact that you’ve chosen these miscreants as company, you’ve also thrown strangers from the Stratonet into the mix! Dangerous stallions and beastly gryphons! Sun only knows what kind of thoughts they’ve been indoctrinating you with, what kind of danger you’ve been putting yourself in! Do they know your name? Do they know where you live?”

“Mom…!” I couldn’t look at her anymore. I couldn’t show her my tears.

At this point, she was pacing the room angrily.

“How would this interfere with your academics, your career? What would your superiors think of you? If you were to choose a life on the stage, performing for crowds of thousands, what would your fans and contemporaries see in your little hobby? Have you ever considered exactly what kind of image you might be projecting to the rest of the world? A beastly, abhorrent little mare who shoots ponies for fun and befriends the enemy?!”

I grit my teeth and shut my eyes, but that didn’t stop red from tainting my vision.

“That’s quite enough!” Rarity interjected. “I believe this has gotten far out of control—”

“O-ho-ho!” she laughed viciously. “I’ll tell you what’s gotten out of control! Such irony, when you have enabled all of this! I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to allow Sweetie Belle to live with you, that I should have sent her to a proper finishing school where all of this barbarity could have been squashed out of her! Instead you’ve let her fester into this barbaric little monstrosity—”

“SHUT UP!”

CRASH.

I found myself on my hooves, breathing heavily, my heart thundering like a storm. It took a few moments for me to realize that I had just flipped the coffee table on its side. Shattered glasses and spilled beverages lay splattered everywhere, some of which were dripping from my parents’ shell-shocked faces.

But I didn’t care. It had the effect I wanted it to have—everypony in the room was stunned into utter silence.

“How dare you,” I snarled. “Say whatever you want about me, but do not talk to Rarity like that.”

“How…” she stammered angrily, finding her words again. “How… how dare I—”

“Yes, how dare you!” I shouted over her. “Rarity is the most supportive sister in the world, and you dare to speak—”

“She is my daughter and I can speak to her any way I wish!” she retorted angrily. “After all, she is the one responsible for… this!” She waved her hooves wildly at the mess that now covered the living room. “For this, and for you!”

“Yeah, she is responsible for me, and I’m damn glad for it too.”

She stepped back, aghast at my language.

“Rarity was the best thing that ever happened to me,” I continued undaunted. “You know, I used to always be excited about coming here on the weekends, because it meant that I could be with my friends, do the things that I loved, and be surrounded by ponies who loved me. And when you sent me to live with Rarity instead of finishing school, it was the happiest moment of my life! Somehow I’m surprised you had even considered the notion of finishing school, because living with you might as well have been the same damn thing!”

I started pacing back and forth, just as my mother had been moments before.

“Decorum, art, music, manners. Day in and day out, it was just ‘learn this, sew that, sing this, dance to that!’ I’d sit there, repeating these same chores over and over and over again, not once ever feeling like I was alive, that I was anything special, that I even felt happy. It all just felt like vapid nonsense—”

“It is not vapid nonsense!” she interrupted.

“You’re right, it’s not!” I shouted over her. “Dancing is fun, tailoring is interesting, fencing is awesome, and classical music is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever listened to! Yeah, this ‘barbaric little monstrosity’ who apparently ‘shoots ponies for fun’ likes the symphony! Just like you always wanted, right? But you know what? Learning it from you made me miserable! Somehow you managed to suck the life out of all these things. Probably because you don’t even like them yourself! Probably because the only reason you care about them is because they’re ladylike!”

The many years of my early childhood spun around me like a tornado. For more than half my life, she had boiled every single day down into an endless routine—school, home, lessons, studying, training, sleep. I had become a robot, programmed to follow and listen and do.

“You crushed the life out of everything you forced down my throat, you took away all the things I wanted to love, and you kept me from my friends, all because you wanted to turn me into your perfect little Princess. And you almost managed it too, until three years ago, Rarity decided to save me from you.”

When they had begun dropping me off at Rarity’s to go on their vacations, I had finally been given a tantalizing taste of life beyond the confines of their rigid programming. When the decision was made to leave me indefinitely in her care… my entire world changed.

“She was the one who taught me to appreciate these things that I hated. She was the one who convinced me that there was some beauty, some magic, some artistry to it all. She appreciated them because they’re beautiful, not because they made me ladylike for doing them. And that’s on top of everything else. Etiquette, formal demeanor, court manner, she taught me all the things you couldn’t.”

As I began walking up to my mother, I could feel all the anger from the events of the last two days roar back to the surface like a blazing fire. I embraced it and used it to fuel my fury.

“But most importantly, she taught me that being a lady isn’t just about following some strict set of rules. She taught me that I had to find beauty in the world on my own, to discover the things that made me happy, and to never let go of them. She taught me that in order to be a ‘lady’, I must be my own lady.”

Rarity, Ponyville, the Crusaders… they had changed everything. They had shown me what it was like to pursue my own destiny. They had shown me what it was like to be alive.

Staring my mother straight in the eyes, I spoke with cold finality.

“She’s a far better sister than you’ve ever been a mother.”

She started quivering at my final utterance. It was clear she was trying to figure out how to respond, but I wasn’t going to hear it. Turning around, I angrily righted the coffee table with my magic with a loud thump and stomped off towards the stairs, content to let her stew in her silence. As I approached the landing, I heard her finally speak.

“S-Sweetie Belle, I am not finished with you! Do not walk—”

“Enough,” Rarity interrupted her. “I believe it’s time for you to go.”

“No! I demand—”

“I am not giving you a choice,” she said, her voice stern. “This is my home, our home, and you have overstayed your welcome. Please leave.”

“Prim,” said my father, “we should really go.”

“Fine,” I heard my mother reply. “Fine!” I turned around to watch her depart, my father scrambling to follow her. “Very well! I can’t believe this is what has become of my children.”

As she opened the door, she turned around. “But as of today, expect nothing more from me, Rarity. I will no longer be paying you a single bit to help care for Sweetie Belle. If you want her to be your responsibility, then so it shall be!”

She slammed the door so hard that it rattled pictures in their frames. As they came to rest, a chill overcame me as my mother’s parting words sank in.

“...Rarity?” I ventured into the silence. “They were still paying you to take care of me?”

She turned to me slowly, a grimace overcoming her countenance. “...Yes, Sweetie,” she replied shakily. “Yes, they were.”

I sat down on the floor, staring at my hooves. Helping me buy the Hoofbox set her back so much that she had to accept extra work to make up for it. But would we even have enough to survive now?

“Can we cover our living expenses?”

“...I’m sure we can—”

“Please just answer me. How much longer until we can’t pay for stuff anymore?”

“Well, err… I’d say we have enough for…” She stopped for a moment. I imagined bills, the mortgage, groceries for two, electricity, tailoring materials, my schoolbooks, her upcoming trip to Manehattan, all sweeping through her head like vultures, snatching up bits as they went. “P-perhaps around… three, four months…?”

My mind was buzzing, trying to comprehend the gravity of what had just happened.

What had I just done?

You messed things up, obviously. Just like usual.

“I’ll… I’ll go apologize to them,” I said, standing up on shaky hooves.

“What?!” everypony shouted, all jumping to their hooves and making me jump a little bit.

“You heard me,” I said again, steeling myself as much as I could as I walked towards the door. “I’ll go catch up to them and apologize.”

“Are you nuts?!” yelled Scootaloo, who jumped in front of me.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” said Apple Bloom in agreement. “I just sat here watchin’ her tear you apart like a street rat in a trap! And yer just gonna go out there and—”

“Move,” I said. “There’s more important stuff than my pride.”

I put a hoof on the earth pony’s shoulder and gently pushed her aside. She was stronger than me, by orders of magnitude, but she did not resist, merely only staring at me with giant orange eyes.

“You should really listen to your friends, dear,” came my sister’s voice from behind me.

I spun around, on the verge of tears. “Rarity, I did this! I started this fight. If I had just shut up and not said anything, none of this would have happened. It’s my fault.”

“No it isn’t, it’s theirs,” she countered. “Why are you blaming yourself for this?”

“Because I screwed up!” I shouted, tears blinding my vision. “I… what I did, it’s gonna hurt us! It’s gonna hurt you! I’ve seen how much you’ve been working lately just to make up for my Hoofbox! I had no idea they were helping you in the first place! How much harder will it be for you if they aren’t?!”

“I… well, it certainly won’t be easy—”

“Then I’ll go talk to them and apologize—”

“That’s not necessary, Sweetie—”

“Fine!” I shouted. I felt like I couldn’t even breathe, my throat felt so tight. “Then I’ll look for a job or something, so I can help out! Or ask mom and dad to take me back, have them send me to finishing school, so you don’t have to worry about me! I need to do something, anything! I can’t just let them put you through this! I just…! I need to—”

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity stomped a hoof. “I need you to calm down, right this instant, and do as I instructed.”

There it was. The Phrase.

”Stop everything.”

I was shaking. My heart ached so much. My head felt hot. My ears were ringing. My throat felt dry. I could only see red.

”Drop what you’re doing.”

All the pain that I caused everypony, all the guilt from me screwing up all the time, all the work that I put everypony through just for my sake…

”And breathe.”

I closed my eyes. In, out. Just like Rarity taught me.

My breath came in hot and rough.

“Ready?” I heard Rarity venture cautiously, her voice coming from right behind me.

“I… I don’t think so.” I turned around to face her, choking back a sob. “I’m sorry, sis. I’m sorry for… everything.”

She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she held out a foreleg. I slowly walked towards her, planted my face into her neck, and promptly burst into tears.

“Shh. It’s fine. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, Sweetie,” I heard her whisper as she caressed my mane.

I didn’t know how much time passed as I sat there, crying into her coat. The whole while, memories flashed through my mind. Report cards overflowing with red ink. An angry blue mare dragging me to the barracks, yelling at me all the while. An exhausted Rarity hunched over her sewing machine in the dark of night.

As time went on, I felt more hooves wrap around me, more bodies pressing firmly against mine as the other three Crusaders lent me their warmth and presence.

Slowly, I felt the pressure of my tears let up. As I sniffled and rubbed my eyes, everypony let go.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I finally spoke. “I’m sorry all of this has been happening.”

“It’s fine,” said Apple Bloom, wiping a tear I missed with a hoof.

“You’re fine,” agreed Scootaloo, who then promptly blushed. “Err, I meant, ‘you’ll be fine’, not, uh… oh mare…”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. Everypony giggled slightly.

“You are perfectly fine indeed,” said Rarity. “And you know I will always stand by you to fight for you.”

“I know,” I said. “I just… wish it didn’t cost you so much.”

“Sweetie, listen to me,” she said, holding her hooves up to my face. “It’s been three years since you moved in with me. And throughout that time, we’ve… been through a lot together.”

She paused for a moment, a flurry of emotions flitting through her expression. The past few years were probably floating through her mind, reminding her of our trials and tribulations, of struggling to improve my grades, of teaching me how to survive adulthood, of working extra hours to help cover my cost of living.

“But I don’t regret it. Not for a moment.”

She looked back to me, smiling.

“The Sweetie Belle that I see before me is far different than the one that I took in three years ago. I’m so incredibly proud to say that you’ve grown magnificently into the fine young lady I always hoped you would be. I’m sure your friends will agree with me on this.”

They all nodded enthusiastically.

“It wasn’t ever easy, and it’s not likely to be now,” she continued. “But no matter what challenges we faced, we always came through. Every time. And I have no doubt that we’ll make it through this as well.”

“Yeah! Don’t listen to your parents,” joined Scootaloo. “And don’t let what they said get to you.”

“Even if they won’t be here fer ya,” said Apple Bloom, “we will. Always.”

“We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders,” agreed Button Mash. “Nopony gets left behind.”

“I’m may not be a Crusader myself,” said Rarity, “but know that I am with them on this. We are all here to stand behind you, one hundred and twenty percent.”

I gazed around at the smiling faces of my sister and my friends. In my mind, I imagined more faces, of Featherweight and his father, of the stern Captain Romana and Guardsman Bulwark, of my wonderful teacher Miss Cheerilee… all of the ponies who had sacrificed so much just to help me succeed.

“T-thanks, Rarity,” I said, sniffling. “Thanks, you guys. You’re the best.”

I stepped into my room and closed the door softly. It was mostly dark, with only the soft light of the moon filtering through my bedroom window to light the way. I trotted cautiously through the twilight to my stratoscreen, putting a hoof to the glowing green On button of my game console… but stopped short as I glanced at the box of a game resting on top of the machine.

A trio of armored ponies stood on its cover, one holding a large revolver to his side. The glint of my silver Hawkmoon flashed through my mind.

“I worry about what these video games are doing to you.”

By the time my mind had been cleared of the memory, the room had since been bathed in darkness as clouds shrouded the moon. I walked blindly towards my bed, but tripped over my saddlebags. A soft crunch came from my hooves. I looked down and saw a piece of paper with dozens of math problems scribbled on it. It looked like a piece of my late homework—I must have forgotten to turn it in along with the rest.

“I’m supposed to protect you, no matter what it costs me.”

I picked up the paper and opened my saddlebags to put it away. A soft clink reverberated through the darkness as a brown pouch fell out—the thin rope tying it closed had come loose, and a single silver coin had tinkled to the floor.

“P-perhaps around… three, four months…?”

Staring at the Lunar coin, I realized that I still hadn’t examined the bag’s contents. What if it was enough to help with our expenses? It wasn’t a huge pouch, by any stretch of the imagination, but this was Filthy Rich we were talking about—what if there were golden Solars in there too? I reached out with a hoof to open the bag.

“Consider this a warning, from stallion to mare: Nothing good can come of this.”

My vision pulsed with red. I kicked the bag—it sailed into my closet, smacking into a crimson cape before falling to the floor. The cape fluttered around, revealing the pony-adorned blue shield embroidered onto the back.

“I just figured we’d be together when it happened.”

I gritted my teeth and stomped towards my bed, collapsing into its covers. As I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, a single red word invaded my memories, floating above me in the darkness.

GAYMARE

I did not sleep well.

“HEY SWEETIE BELLE LOOK YOU’RE IN THE MORNING PAPERS!”

“I’m handing you the truth on a shiny silver spoon.”
“Even Snips and Snails know they’re just breeders.”
“Guzzle this.”

“I’m tired, Miss Headmaster. I’m so very, very tired.”
“Diplomacy is obviously a foreign concept to you!”
”We’re clearly past a point of no return, Miss Belle.”

Author's Note

Dedicated to my loving parents, for mostly not being like Sweetie Belle's lmao

Credits:
Thanks again to my editors Zaid ValRoa and Sharp Quill and guest pre-reader Magello, who all pointed out a veritable litany of plot holes, inconsistencies, and vagaries throughout a monstrous week of editing. I am not a smart pony, and they smart for me. I scrapped and rewrote an entire scene due to their input, and it's worked out so much more fabulously than I could ever have imagined.

Author's Notes:
So, uh, this chapter got really long. Which is really scary, because originally, the family scene by itself was literally the second one I had ever written. Pretty much everything between that and the very first scene in the story was written over the last three weeks on top of the first draft. No, I have no idea how that happened. Then again, it was also in a much different state back then. Let's just say this story is turning out to be much bigger than I expected.

A few enterprising readers might have noticed that Magnum and Primrose aren't the same as Sweetie Belle's parents from the show. They're actually somewhat inspired by Rarity's parents from AestheticB's The Immortal Game... well, aside from the whole training-my-daughter-for-war part.

I'm taking a few liberties with the show canon--not enough for it to be worth an AU tag, but definitely enough for it to be worth pointing out. To that end, I've decided to make (most of) my story design notes public. It'll essentially be a mostly spoiler-free FAQ for readers to check if they need further explanations of events, concepts, or characters that appear in the story. I'll also be answering some of the questions that I get asked really frequently in the comments.

So, without further ado:

T H I S G A M E O F M I N E

T H E G R I M O I R E

A N O F F I C I A L U N I V E R S E G U I D E B O O K

Thanks for reading, everyone. Things are really starting to heat up... and it's gonna get pretty explosive ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF DRAGONBALL Z.

Now playing:
"Main Theme" - Valkyria Chronicles
Composed by Hitoshi Sakimoto
Performed by the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra
Valkyria Chronicles OST

5. Devil's Due

“Give me your arm, oh bearer mine.
Let me help you fill the world with teeth.”
—Young Ahamkara's Spine

I stumbled into the kitchen this morning.

Like, literally stumbled. I managed to make it only two steps into the room before tripping over a very fluffy ball of I don’t even know what because my face just became very intimately acquainted with the linoleum flooring.

“Mrreeaaaaaoowoww!” Opal screeched at me.

“Owwww,” I groaned in response.

“Opal, just what has gotten— Sweetie?!” came a voice above me. I heard the scratching of a chair and a rush of hoofsteps as the infernal cat darted off. “Sweetie, whatever is the matter?”

“Gmmornning,” I mumbled through the floor.

I was slowly helped to my hooves by my sister. “Oh come now, it can’t be that— Oh dear, you look positively garish! Sit still for a moment.” Immediately, she began frenzying around me, wiping scratches off my face and straightening my mane with a brush that had apparently materialized out of nowhere. Oh hi Pinkie Pie, didn’t realize you were here, so have you seen my sister around. “Dear, did you even go to bed last night?”

“I tried,” I mumbled, failing to suppress a wide yawn. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said in sympathy as she busied herself with my appearance. “I can’t imagine you’d be able to after the, er, excitement of the last few days.”

“Yeaaah. Those were definitely a thing.”

She finished up and navigated me over to the chair. “Come, Sweetie, sit down and have some toast. I’ll make you coffee as well, I’m sure that’ll perk you right up.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Anytime, darling.”

Breakfast was a rather subdued affair. After last night’s debacle had ended, there had been precious little to say—we had cleaned up, and after everypony had gone home, I had simply retreated back upstairs, wanting to distance my mind from all the damage I had caused that evening.

The broken glasses echoed throughout my mind. Rarity would have to pay for replacements. Way to add more to the pile, Sweetie Belle.

“Oh, Sweetie, there was something I wanted to mention, actually,” Rarity said, interrupting my musings. “You’ll be needed at the barracks to submit a testimony to the Town Guard.”

“Okay.”

“They’ve also asked if you wanted to press charges.”

“Meh.”

“That’s… not an answer, Sweetie Belle.”

“It’s not something I’m in the mood to think about right now,” I grumbled. “I’ll deal with it when I visit the Guard.” Another thought occurred to me, and I looked up at her. “Besides, can we even afford a lawyer right now?”

“Err…” She thought for a moment. “Well, if we settle or win the case, we’ll be awarded damages to pay for our legal counsel.”

“I don’t feel like risking that right now, Rarity. We’re already in a tight situation as it is, and what happened yesterday won’t help.” I stood up and brought my dishes over to the sink. “Besides, you need the money more right now. Your trip to Manehattan is in a few days, and it isn't going to pay for itself."

“That’s… I suppose that’s true,” she said, looking down at her bowl, conflicted. “It just doesn’t feel right to leave things as they are. It’s not fair to you.”

“Rarity, I’m not gonna put your career at risk over this,” I said, walking over to her, “at least not right now. We can press charges or whatever after your trip is over and we don’t have as much to worry about, okay?”

“…Very well, Sweetie Belle, if you insist,” she sighed, turning to me with a resigned smile. “You’re far too thoughtful for your own good, you know that?”

“I didn’t get that way by myself, Miss Generosity,” I replied, kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks for worrying about me. I’ll see you after school.”

“You too.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Have a good day, dear.”

Everypony was staring.

But for some reason, there were more scowls, more grimaces, more looks of disapproval. What the heck was going on? It wasn’t nearly this bad yesterday. I could almost feel their scrutinizing gazes burning into the back of my skull, and I folded my ears folded inward in hopes that I could block out their mutterings.

“Mornin’, Miss Belle!” said Davenport with a wave.

“Morning.”

Try harder than that, it’s the first smile you’ve gotten all morning.

“How’s business?” I asked, stopping for once.

“Been decent,” he said with a shrug. “Though fewer and fewer ponies need quills these days, what with those fancy personal consoles becoming so popular.”

My heart sank as a crestfallen expression overcame the stallion. While the advent of the personal console had done much for Equestria, it was still saddening to see that the nation’s rapidly-changing technological landscape wasn’t being kind to many businesses. I glanced towards Golden Oak Library in the distance, wondering how Miss Twilight would feel if the massive tree-library were someday replaced by a single console in the middle of town that contained a copy of every book in the world.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be!” he chided with infectious cheer. “After all, they still need nice sofas to sit on and use their consoles with!”

“Ah, that’s certainly true,” I said, somewhat eased by the silver lining. “Now that I think about it, most of the time I use my console, I’m sitting on the floor.” I gave him a winning smile. “Perhaps I’ll be by in the near future to invest in a new sofa?”

What was I talking about? I couldn’t afford a sofa.

Hush. You’re socializing. He doesn’t need to know.

“That sounds marvelous!” he exclaimed happily in response. “Your sister’s one of my favorite customers. Heck, I’d even be willing to throw a discount your way!”

Hey, I actually got somewhere with that.

“Though I hope you don’t intend to spend too much time on that couch!” he joked.

Huh? “How do you mean?” I asked him quizzically.

“Not much, just that there’s a lot to love about the great outdoors,” he said, waving his forelegs grandly at our surroundings. “I hope that’s something you can continue to appreciate.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked again, completely baffled by where he was going with this.

“Perhaps you’d get too caught up in those video games of yours?” he said with a wink.

Oh. That.

I gave him a flat look. A very flat look. Like, flatter than Scootaloo attempting to sing the Winter Wrap Up. “Perhaps you’re right, Mister Davenport. I might never leave my room if I purchased a sofa from you. Thank you for convincing me.”

He faltered at that as he came to realize his mistake. “Er, I didn’t mean to—”

“Good day, Mister Davenport.” I turned around and trotted away without another word. Seriously, what made him think that was a good idea? Was he just that daft?

“Er, anytime!” he said half-cheerfully. “Feel free to come back if you change your… mind?”

I rolled my eyes, then forced them to the ground as I remembered that ponies were still staring. Seriously, what was up with everypony today?!

“Hiya, muffin!” called a cheerful voice above me.

“Hi,” I grunted.

“Ooh, somepony sounds a little miffed!” I heard hooves clop onto the cobblestone road as the bubbly gray mare landed and fell into step beside me. “Something got your feathers ruffled, Sweetie?”

“I don’t even have any feathers, Miss Doo,” I replied cynically.

“Just Ditzy is fine,” she corrected, “And no, but you don’t need to for me to know that you’re not at your brightest today.” The mare stepped in front of me, her misaligned eyes full of concern. “Is something wrong? Can I help?”

“Yeah, sure you can,” I grumbled. “If you can get everypony to stop staring at me, that’d help a lot.”

“Staring at you?” She looked around, scanning the crowd. “Why’s that such a big deal?”

I sighed heavily. “Miss Doo—”

“Ditzy!” she cheerfully corrected.

“…Ditzy,” I continued. “Do you know what it’s like to get stared at?”

“Actually, I do,” she said. “You know, the eyes? The accident?”

Oh. Right. Nice going, Sweetie Belle.

“…I’m sorry, Ditzy,” I said with a sigh, sitting down and looking at her. “I guess I’m just not used to it yet.”

“You seemed to be doing just fine yesterday!” she pointed out cheerfully.

“That’s because everypony wasn’t staring yesterday,” I muttered.

“Yes they were,” she said.

“No they weren’t,” I muttered.

“Yes they were!” she repeated, trotting up to me. “Believe me, I know. That’s the only reason why I even saw you that morning! I saw everypony staring, and then when I looked to see what they were staring at, I saw you and your cutie mark! So I came down to say hi!”

“Okay, so say they were staring yesterday,” I said in frustration. The mare's persistence was starting to annoy me. “So what? What’s your point?”

“My point is, they were doing the same thing yesterday, but you were acting completely different. You were cheerful! You were happy! You looked like you were on top of the world. What changed?”

My eye twitched. “Nothing changed. Ponies are staring at me.”

She focused one of her eyes on me. “Sweetie Belle, you remember how a few years ago I got fired from my old job at the post office?”

“I… think so?” I remember the news going around, but I hadn’t thought about it much. I barely knew the mare back then, aside from the occasional time she’d show up at our house with the wrong package.

“Well,” she continued, “I tried to go about the rest of my day like it was fine. Kept smiling. Everypony knew what happened, asked me if I was okay, and I just said ‘yep’! Just pretended everything was A-Okay! And when I got home, the first thing I did was sit down, pop open a box of my favorite poppy lemon seed muffins, pick the fluffiest-looking muffin, and bite right into it.”

“And?” I asked, wondering where she was going with this.

“And I spat it out on the floor,” she said simply, and my eyes widened. “It tasted like dirt, all chalky and stuff.”

“That stinks,” I said. “What happened? Did they go bad?”

“That’s what I thought at first too,” she said. “But it was weird—the muffin I had eaten the day before was yummy. It didn’t make sense. At that point, I was so frustrated that I just started crying.”

“Crying?”

“Yep! Just like that,” she said with a sigh. “It was like, out of all the things that could go wrong that day, my muffins tasted like dirt. It was like a nail in the coffin. I stared at the thing like it had betrayed me. Like everything else had that day. And I got so furious. I was already in a bad mood, so why did my stupid muffins have to go and make it worse?

“And it was then that I realized, ‘the muffins didn’t go bad. I went bad.’”

I didn't get it.

But I stayed quiet, and she continued.

“It took me a little bit to stop crying, but afterwards I realized, ‘sitting here and being mopey isn’t gonna fix it, and neither is pretending that I’m happy.’ And so, I set out to fix my problems. I faced every day with a real smile and delivered on that smile with a real promise to myself, to work hard and get better. And I’m in a much better place now. And muffins taste great again!"

“Okay…?” I replied slowly. “What’s that gotta do with me?”

“Well, the truth is, they didn’t change, you did.” She pointed a hoof at my chest. “Everypony seems like they’re staring now, because something happened between yesterday and today that suddenly made you start caring.”

I sighed. "Well, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Stop caring!" she exclaimed. "It's all in the attitude. Go through your day like you did yesterday, with a smile and a promise to yourself that this will be the best day you can make it."

"That’s easier said than done, Ditzy," I muttered.

“Like most things in life, but that doesn't matter as long as it's doable," she replied with a gentle smile, before wrapping me in a hug.

I mulled on her words for a bit, and thought back to the days following the mare’s accident, how difficult it had been just to learn how to cope with the results of her injuries. "Does it ever get better?" I finally asked.

“'Better'? I can’t promise you that, not for sure.” She shrugged with a helpless smile. "But it gets 'easier'."

In the back of my mind, I felt a voice skeptically telling me that she was just trying to cheer me up. But somehow, it didn’t really feel like she was babying me.

"…I'll try, Miss Doo," I said finally.

“Ditzy. And that’s all any of us can ever do,” she replied with another hug, which this time I returned. “Just keep at it, muffin. It won't always be easy, but my sister always said: ‘There's always a way out. Sometimes that way is through’.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” ...Waitaminute. Miss Doo had a sister? “She sounds kinda cool.”

“She's a pretty daring gal!” Ditzy replied enthusiastically. “Anyways, I gotta get to work, and you—” she booped me on the nose “—gotta get to school. I’ll see ya around, and hopefully the next time it’ll be with a smile on your face!”

“Yeah. Thanks, Ditzy.” A thought occurred to me. “Say, before you go, where do you work now?’

“See for yourself!” she said cheerfully, hoofing me a business card. “Gotta jet! Say hi to muffi— er, Dinky for me!”

“Sure thing!” As she sped off, I looked at the business card, which was adorned with hearts, a photo of Ditzy’s grinning visage, and a series of text in floral cursive. “‘Ditzy Doo, Professional Matchmaker, Equestria Speedy Shipping Services’…?” I read aloud. “Huh. Okay then.”

Putting the card in my saddlebags, I stood up.

“‘It’s all in the attitude,’” I repeated, steeling myself a little more, as I began making my way to school once again.

Ponies, for the most part, had stopped staring, though a few shot occasional glances at me.

As it was, despite Ditzy’s advice, it was still difficult. Their stares and scowls were boring into me, and I could just imagine the thoughts flitting into everypony’s heads. Whispers began suggesting things in my head, and I couldn’t drive them out of my mind.

I looked up and noticed that I was approaching a point along my usual path that took me between homes. It stretched for a little while, and usually there wasn’t anypony taking it.

Finally. I could escape for a few seconds.

I quickly ducked into the shadowed pathway and let out a relieved sigh as I finally felt the pressure lift. Letting myself sink into the relative silence of my surroundings, I stared absentmindedly down at the ground and stewed in my thoughts for a bit.

I couldn’t believe that mailmare had to deal with this for weeks after her accident. At the same time, I couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. If there was anypony who knew how to deal with the constant scrutiny of others, it was clumsy, derp-eyed, earnest Ditzy Doo. She probably had to deal with that every single time somepony talked to her.

I really hoped it gets easier, like she said.

As I looked up, I noticed two petite figures blocking my way forward.

…You had to be kidding me. I was not in the mood for this.

“How’s our little gay-mare doing this morning?” Diamond sneered at me.

“Screw off.” I strode around them, making my way towards the street.

“Hey, we’re not done talking to you!” Diamond called, catching up to me.

“Last I checked, you’re the only one who ever talks to me,” I replied without stopping. “Why doesn’t your friend ever say anything?”

“You’re beneath me,” said Silver Spoon without missing a beat.

“Ah, so you’re the silent mastermind of the duo, and Diamond’s just your little lackey who does all your dirty work.”

“Even if I were a lackey, I’d still be far superior to you,” Diamond snarled.

“Is that so?” I said, rounding on her. “If that were the case, why don’t you just do what Silver Spoon does instead? You don’t need to bother yourself with me.”

“Because it’s just far too satisfying to prove it!” she said haughtily.

‘Prove’, huh? That word stuck out to me like a sore thumb.

Ah. I got it now.

“If you’re so determined to prove it to me, I’d wager it’s because you’re insecure,” I said, voicing my conclusions with a smirk. “Sounds to me like you’re just scared. Maybe even jealous.”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, before she let out a guffaw. “Don’t make me laugh!” Uh, too late for that. “Why would I be jealous? I have far more friends in our class than you.”

She was right. Sometimes the world was full of little injustices. But I knew better.

“They’re only friends with you because you’re rich and pretty,” I retorted. “Not because there’s anything actually likeable about you. Unlike you, I actually have real friends.”

“That’s a treat, coming from the girl who hangs out all day with that ghastly pair of tomboys!”

“At least I’m not so much of an asshole that I have to go be friends with another asshole just so I can feel better about myself.” I shot a look at Silver Spoon. “Which, by the way, just sounds like a magical time. Let me know when the wedding is, yeah?”

Diamond opened her mouth to speak, but for once, Silver beat her to it. “You take that back,” she growled, a blush overcoming her face. “I’m not a filthy little lesbian like you.”

Ouch. Must have hit a nerve there, eh, Silver? I didn't expect that coming from what I generally perceived to be the more reserved of the duo.

“I’m not taking anything back,” I said with a huff. “I’m handing you the truth on a shiny silver spoon. Not my fault it was bent out of shape.” I grinned at my own pun before turning around to continue my trot. “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”

Seconds later, my muzzle was forced into a wall, dislocating a poster that had been hung there, and I was rubbing my flank where one of them had pushed me sharply.

“What the Hel, you guys!” I yelled, turning around. “Back off! I just wanna get to school!”

“You? Go to school? Why not just run home to your trashy little video games?!” Diamond scowled, advancing towards me.

“Screw off,” I shot back defensively with a blush. "You wouldn't know trashy if it nipped at your cutie mark."

"Funny you mention hooves," said Silver Spoon, joining in her friend. “As an earth pony, my parents taught me a great deal about how much meaning we imbue into the world through our cutie marks."

She adjusted her glasses.

"Meanwhile, you have the audacity to get a completely useless cutie mark and think it means anything.”

I gritted my teeth. Her comments stung. I knew I shouldn't internalize them, but…

"Too right, Silver Spoon," said Diamond with a menacing grin. "You're too broken to do anything useful with your mark. And if it isn’t gonna be put to good use…"

She stomped at her own hoof at a nearby discarded bottle, shattering the bottom half. Without breaking her gaze with me, she slowly picked it up and leveled it between us, the jagged edges pointed directly at me.

“Maybe we should just get rid of it for you.”

Silver froze and shot a glance at Diamond, and it was in that moment of pause that Diamond’s words sunk in.

Immediately, I struck out with a forehoof, slapping Diamond across the face. She stepped back, momentarily dazed by what had just happened.

“You… you barbaric little gay-mare!” she cried, holding a hoof to her face. “My father will be hearing about this—”

“Save it for someone who cares,” I spat back. I felt my blood boil and my face warm—from fear or fury, I couldn’t tell. It was a fire torching the walls that sealed my lips, and I embraced it, letting it fuel my anger. “All you do is parade around with your tough girl act, then cry to daddy as soon as something goes wrong. If anyone needs to lose anything, it’s you and your Sun-forsaken mouth.”

I walked up closer to her and leaned in.

"The only way out is through," echoed Ditzy’s voice in my mind.

“I can’t believe I was ever scared of you, you pathetic little coward. But now that your real colors are so obvious, I almost pity you. So here’s some advice: daddy can’t protect you forever. I suggest you get used to it.”

She growled back at me. “He will if I have anything to say about it.”

“We’ll see about that once the Guard get involved.”

Their eyes widened, but I didn’t plan on staying to let them open their mouths again.

As I turned to leave, an audible crunch sounded from my hooves. I looked down to see the poster that had come loose from the wall, crumpled underneath a foreleg. The minimalistic visages of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna smiled kindly at me from between the wrinkles, their wings spread in a cradling embrace. Below their expressions was a simple phrase:

“THE SUN AND STARS WILL PROTECT YOU”

I scowled at the poster, then glanced behind me to see Silver helping Diamond to her feet. With a scoff, I turned away and strode out the alley.

Only I could protect myself.

“What do you mean, assault and battery?!” I yelled, jumping out of my chair and nearly knocking the glass on the Headmaster’s desk right off.

“You know exactly what I mean,” said the Headmaster sternly. “You struck Diamond Tiara. Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.”

“NO!” I stomped up to the desk. “She started it! She was the one who—”

“Miss Sweetie Belle, you are about to graduate!” she shouted over me. “Do not try to convince me with such childish assertions as ‘she started it’!”

“Do you even realize what she was trying to do—”

“As far as I’m concerned, she has done nothing! The facts presented to me are that she appeared in the nurse’s office with a swollen cheek, saying you did it, and you are perfectly unscathed! But thank you for confirming that you were indeed present! It’ll make my report to the Guard much easier!”

I blanched at that. “Are you kidding me?!”

“No, I am not. Diamond expressed her desire to contact the Guard, and I do not doubt her intent for a second.”

She… she beat me to it.

“Luckily for you,” she continued, “as this incident occurred beyond school grounds and outside of school hours, this matter is out of my hooves until she follows up on that intent. So for now, you shall return to your classes. I will recall you to my office when you are needed.” She fixed me with a withering glare. “Now go.”

“Am I even allowed to—”

“No, you are not. As far as I’m concerned, you have forfeited any right to say anything in your defense. Go.”

I couldn’t believe it. She had used my own defense against me.

I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have said anything this morning.

My blood boiled in fury.

“Fine,” I said simply, withholding a scowl towards the Headmaster. Without another word, I jumped off my chair and stormed out.

“Press charges?” the two girls asked in unison, glancing up over their lunchboxes.

“Yeah, press charges,” I grunted, slamming mine shut. “I’m sick of her and her family’s horse manure, and it’s about time she gets a reality check.”

“Well it’s about time someone gives her one!” said Apple Bloom cheerfully, taking a slice of apple pie out of her box. “I’m just glad you have something to go off of.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see what the look on her face will be like when she finally gets the slammer!” said Scootaloo.

“She’s not gonna go to jail, Scootaloo,” I replied. “But I’ll at least make their family pony up for this mess. Maybe Filthy Rich will realize he can’t let her get away with this forever.”

“Sounds right ta me,” nodded Apple Bloom. “His language is money, seems only natural to make ‘em talk in it.”

“Hey Apple Bloom, I was wondering,” said Scootaloo suddenly. “Doesn’t Filthy Rich work with your family a lot?”

“Yup!” she replied. “He stocks our products in stores across Equestria, takes a cut of the sales.”

“How does your family even deal with him?”

“He’s normally real polite ’round us,” she explained. “But I figure that’s only ’cause it’d be mighty bad fer business if he gave his clients a hard time.”

“Just because he’s a jerk doesn’t mean he’s stupid,” I added. “But he probably wouldn’t give the Acres a second glance if he didn’t see a way to profit off of it.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” said Scootaloo, nodding. “It’s surreal though. One minute he’s this nice guy, making business deals and helping you sell your stuff all over the country, next minute he’s threatening you if you mess with him. He sounds like the Godmother or something from one of those Manehattan mobster flicks.”

“’Cept that’d technically make him the ‘Godfather’,” chuckled Apple Bloom.

“That doesn’t sound nearly as scary though,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, really, what kind of stallion runs a crime family?”

“Hey, it could happen! Maybe that’s the reason why he always manages to get Diamond outta trouble! He, like, threatens ponies with extortion and bribes and gang warfare and stuff!”

Right on the money, Apple Bloom.

“I don’t care,” I groaned. “Just please don’t make this mean that I’ll wake up with a manticore head on my bedsheets or something.” I shivered at the thought.

“Haha!” Scootaloo laughed. “I remember that scene! Man, I was cracking up. The look on the guy’s face!”

“I dunno ’bout y’all,” Apple Bloom mumbled, “but that movie just plain creeped me out.”

“Yeah, but you still watched it, because it’s Button’s favorite,” I teased.

“D-did not,” she stammered. “I just watched it ’cause it looked cool.”

“Hey, speaking of which, where is Button anyways?” Scootaloo piped up suddenly.

“Good question.” I looked around for the fourth Crusader. “He left in a hurry after we got excused for lunch. I think he said he wanted to run down to the shop to grab some paper or something.”

“Oh, that’s right!” exclaimed Apple Bloom. “He wanted to go grab the paper!”

“The paper?” I blinked at her… then it clicked in my head.

Oh no.

“LOCAL FILLY EARNS CUTIE MARK FOR VIDEO GAMING WORLD RECORD!” came a shrill voice, like a herald of doom and destruction that had developed an impeccable sense of inconvenient timing. We all glanced up from our lunches to see Button galloping into the yard, frantically waving around a paper in his hooves like a madmare possessed, other kids turning to behold his passage.

“What’s his deal now?” asked Scootaloo from across the table.

“Don’t ask, it’ll make your head hurt,” I muttered, looking away. “Let’s just avoid eye contact and hope he doesn’t—”

“Too late, he’s coming this way.”

Horseapples.

The brown colt stumbled up to our table, out of breath, hair frazzled. Apple Bloom, of course, was blushing furiously, but Button was too excited to notice. Not like he ever noticed. He doesn’t notice a lot of things.

And he also didn’t notice that I had wilted in my seat. Apple Bloom yelped a little as my shrinking revealed her presence to the colt, and she shrank behind me. I would have laughed had I not known what would happen once he got air into his lungs again.

“Button,” I groaned futilely, “Don’t you dare—”

“HEY SWEETIE BELLE LOOK YOU’RE IN THE MORNING PAPERS!” he shouted as loud as he possibly could.

“Button…” I buried my face in a hoof.

“Check it out!” He trotted closer to us, holding the paper out so we could all see it, and reading the article aloud. “‘Sweetie Belle… something local filly… something Crusaders… on Monday evening, earned her cutie mark when her guild, Sanctuary, became the first players in the world to defeat Theralon in the Infinite Citadel!’”

“Listen, Button, do you mind—”

“Hey, it even mentions me, Zaid and Freya!” He did a hoof pump. “We’re in the newspaper, Sweetie! Isn’t that awesome?!”

I angrily grabbed the newspaper out of his hoof. “Button, I swear to the Sun—”

Suddenly, my hoof was empty—someone else had swiped the paper from me.

“What the—” I swiveled around. Horseapples! Diamond Tiara was scanning the paper with Silver Spoon, their faces a grimace from barely restrained laughter.

“Weekend… Sanctuary… oh my Stars, you two play this stupid thing for ten hours a day?!” She laughed uproariously. “Do you even bathe?!”

“I bet her sister comes in with a portable toilet when she needs to relieve herself!” giggled Silver.

“Guys…” I warned, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. We already played this game this morning.

“Aww, is Geekie Belle sad that she’s infamous for being a geek?” sneered Diamond as she clopped up.

“I’ll say,” chimed in Silver Spoon rosily. “It seems the world is destined to know that you’re a gay-mare.”

I cringed again.

“Hey! You take that back!” yelled Scootaloo. “She is not a gay mare!”

I flattened my ears against my head in embarrassment as chuckles rang throughout the crowd.

“What even is a gai-mare anyways?!” asked Apple Bloom. “Y’all kept writin’ that word on the board!”

Great. This is totally what I wanted to have to explain to my best friends right now.

Thankfully, Diamond took care of that for me, pointing a hoof.

“It’s what she is. A filthy, bloodthirsty savage who plays those barbaric, violent little video games.”

Ergh. Maybe not so thankfully. Well, at least her explanation was rather vanilla compared to the other definitions I’ve heard.

“Yeah, so what if she plays video games?!” retorted Apple Bloom. “Y’all’ve been brewin’ a storm over it ever since she got her cutie mark! Why’s it such a big deal, anyways?”

I chuckled at Apple Bloom’s innocent naïvety. It was wonderful. Charming. I could almost pinch her little cheeks. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that much though.

“You know that video games are only for colts and stallions,” replied Diamond Tiara, her voice smooth but her tone biting and cold. “Or at least, the kind that have no lives, no jobs, no mares, and do nothing all day but laze around in front of their stratoscreens, wasting away their energy on these stupid games instead of doing what they’re supposed to.”

“I know!” exclaimed Silver Spoon. “Can you imagine? Colts that don’t labor, fight, or make babies! What’s even the point?!”

“Hey, that’s not nice,” snarled Button Mash, scowling with a slight redness on his cheeks. “That’s not all we’re supposed to do…”

“It’s all you need to do,” stated Diamond simply. “Even Snips and Snails know they’re just breeders.”

Diamond and Silver devolved into titters. Button Mash was fuming now.

“You take that back!” growled Apple Bloom. Sometime within the last few minutes, she had regained her confidence, and was now standing in front of Button Mash protectively.

“Oh?” grinned Silver Spoon disarmingly. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did we insult your little breeder?”

“Button is not a breeder!” she yelled, and another blush overcame her yellow cheeks.

“Oh, but he is yours, isn’t he?” teased Silver. “Don’t think I don’t see you, going red every moment he so much as looks at you. It’s so glaringly obvious. I don’t even know what you see in him, despite that you’re both just dumb as bricks.”

Apple Bloom blushed even harder, gritting her teeth.

“Why don’t you quit standing behind your girlfriend and come out here yourself?” Diamond taunted. “Or did I bruise your fragile little ego too hard? Just another wimpy little colt who can't even stand up for himself!”

The crowd laughed, and there were a few stomps of approval. He blushed furiously, and Apple Bloom stepped up closer. “Quit messin’ with Button!”

“Oh, come off it, you stupid hick!” she roared with laughter. She shot me a look. “Hate to break it to you, but he clearly doesn’t give a damn about some farm girl like you—it’s obvious he’s got eyes for Sweetie Belle instead.”

A few whoops and lewd noises emanated from the crowd. I started to drown them out. I was shaking. My head felt hot. My ears were ringing. I could only see red.

“You’re such a flawless match after all!” she howled, sneering at Button over Apple Bloom’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Button? Isn’t it just too bad that she’s a raging gay-mare!” She walked forward, roughly shoving Apple Bloom aside so she could bear down on the trembling colt. “You're so pathetic, she won't ever like you back! Just face it, no matter how hard you try, you'll never ever get a chance with the filly of your dreams. You should just go geld yourself. Or maybe we'll even do it for you—!”

CLANK.

Her head shot backwards as a lunchbox slammed into it, leaving behind an angry welt on her forehead and a look of pure shock as she beheld the spinning metal object that had bounced off her face only a split second ago.

Flank them. Attack from the side or rear while they’re distracted by your teammates. Act swiftly and you will reduce harm to both yourself and your allies.

Before the lunchbox could even drop to the floor, before the green aura of my magic had even faded from the improvised projectile, before my target could even process what had just happened, I had already breached the distance between us. In no time at all, my hoof had made contact with its face.

WHAM. Critical hit.

There is no room for distraction. Focus on your target, and engage with all of the might at your command.

The crowd around us disappeared from my focus and the rest of the world turned dark as I fixated on my sole target. Three years.

CRACK.

Land your attacks in quick succession to stagger your opponent, throwing off their aim and preventing an effective counter.

A pink hoof sailed randomly at me and caught me in the shoulder, but it was sloppy and desperate—I ignored it and struck again. Three fucking years.

SMACK.

Neutralize with speed. Eliminating a threat swiftly ensures that they will have no time to respond.

Another pink hoof caught me on the side, and I staggered back, but recovered quickly to deliver another punch. I am going to kill you, you little shit.

WHAM. Critical hit.

My target fell backwards, collapsing to the ground. I coughed, raising a foreleg to favor the side that had taken a hit, but continued my advance. As I closed in on it, a blur intruded upon my approach.

“ENOUGH!” it shouted. “Have you lost your mind—”

I rammed it out of the way without hesitation. I had eyes for only my target, who now lie sprawled on the floor before me. As her face blurred into focus, our gazes met—her pupils were pinpricks, barely visible through blackened eyelids.

“Guzzle this," I growled darkly, and spat in her face. She winced as the wad of spit smacked into her cheek.

I raised a hoof to begin anew.

Suddenly, she was wiped from my vision, replaced by a cacophony of blurred colors—there was a sudden, searing pressure in my shoulder, and I felt extreme vertigo as my hooves left the ground. Within a split-second, my entire back flared in pain as it was shoved against the rough concrete floor beneath me.

What the fuck. I had fallen somehow—my ears rung from the impact, and my vision was a disorienting sea of wild shapes and colors. I thrashed my limbs wildly, attempting to recover, but something kept me grounded. Let go. The world blurred in and out of focus as I tried to get up—I lashed out with my elbow and it caught something, which grunted in response. Get the fuck off me, or I swear to the Sun I’ll—

“—I said STAND DOWN, NOW!” I felt my hooves forced to the sides.

I pulled at my limbs, desperate to free myself. As my motions weakened, I slowly felt the adrenaline withdraw from my mind. The pulsing black and red receded from the edges of my vision, and the mishmash of curves and lines above me came into focus, resolving into the strained face of an angry blue mare.

“Sweetie Belle, enough is enough! Stand down.”

What was going on?

Slowly, my brain worked to catch up to my surroundings.

What just happened?

Don't be stupid. You know exactly what happened.

I looked to my right. A gray filly, glasses askew, was slowly being pulled to her hooves by a few other students. She glared at me, anger written all over her visage, along with… something else that I couldn’t quite place.

I did that?

Yes. You did that.

I looked to my left. A pink filly was lying curled up on the floor, her forelegs held up protectively to her face.

When did I do that?

Just now.

I looked around. A large crowd of schoolkids had gathered, with a few adults zipping through the scene.

How long had it taken?

Half a minute, maybe less.

I looked back up at the blue mare again. She was talking to someone over her shoulder.

How much damage did I cause?

Probably not very much. You’re not exactly a boxing champ.

I followed her gaze, and saw magenta hooves quickly stroll up to the prone filly, accompanied by a voice that carried soothing tones.

Did I do the right thing?

Miss Cheerilee looked up at me. She had a grim countenance, and her glaring eyes were sharp as daggers. Under no universe could that expression be considered happy.

What do you fucking think, Star Swirl?

6. Up the Ante

“Light can reveal mysteries. But even a foal
knows not to stare into the sun.”
—Bond of Focus

We sat outside the Headmaster’s room. Bulwark, the olive Guardsman, stood at the door, barring entry. Muffled voices were conversing in terse tones through the doorway.

Despite the situation, I felt oddly calm. I was sitting on a pretty comfy chair, in a pretty nice room, and the sun shone pretty brightly through a window. It didn’t really feel like I had just beat a filly up.

I wonder if this was what psychopaths felt like.

I looked at Guardsman Bulwark. He looked back. We held each other’s gaze for a moment.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” I asked him.

“I don’t know,” he responded gruffly.

“Oh. Okay.”

My eyes left him and began dancing lazily across the room’s decor. I was surrounded by lots of books and dark wooden furniture, and there was a painting of a sunflower field hanging on the wall. It was quiet.

“Am I gonna get arrested?” I asked the Guard.

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Oh. Okay.”

I looked back at my hooves again, unsure of what to do. I had been sitting here for about fifteen minutes now, and to be perfectly honest, I was getting kinda bored. I began twiddling with my forehooves.

A few minutes had passed when the Headmaster’s door finally opened, and Miss Cheerilee poked her head out. “Sweetie Belle? Please come in.”

Finally. I hopped off the chair, stretched my legs, and trotted through the doorway. The Guard outside shut it behind me.

“Take a seat, Miss Sweetie Belle,” said the Headmaster from behind her desk. I climbed up onto a chair and sat down. Captain Romana stood by the Headmaster’s desk, and Miss Cheerilee stood behind me. For some reason, I couldn’t look my teacher in the face—so instead I just stared at the Headmaster.

“Can I expect you to be calm?” she asked simply.

“Yes,” I replied curtly.

“Very well.” She adjusted her leopard-print glasses. “Do you know why the Guard is here?”

“No.”

“If you recall from our discussion from this morning, Miss Diamond Tiara requested their presence so that we could discuss the incident that occurred before school,” she explained. “I had summoned them, intending to speak with them during your lunch break. They just so happened to be passing by as you were attacking Diamond in the yard.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She and the Captain raised an eyebrow at that. “You seem… awfully non-responsive to this whole ordeal.”

“Yeah.”

“Why is that?”

“You asked me to be calm,” I pointed out.

“But you express no regret, and you do not appear to feel the gravity of your actions. Why is that?”

I sighed heavily. “Headmaster, may I speak freely?”

“You may.”

“And by that, I mean without you interrupting to tell me I have no right to a defense, or that I have nothing of value to say?” I gave Captain Romana a knowing glance. For once, I had witnesses.

The Headmaster saw where my eyes had wandered. “…Go ahead.”

“Okay.” I leaned forward in my seat. “Imagine this for a moment: you get bullied by a filly who refuses to let up, and she continues this for several years. Then, within the span of a single week, this bully attempts to drop a heavy object on your head, decorates an entire chalkboard with a rather imaginative list of alternative applications for your horn—”

“Sweetie Belle, there is still no evidence—”

“I wasn’t finished,” I growled, slamming a hoof on the armrest beside me with a loud THUMP. “Then, she corners you in an alleyway with a friend and tries to beat you up, forcing you to defend yourself. Then she runs to the authorities claiming that your self-defense was actually assault, which gets you in trouble instead of her. Then she surrounds you and your friends in the yard and proceeds to humiliate you with every offensive slur in the damn dictionary, plus some that aren’t.”

I leaned closer, fixing my gaze on the mare. “Tell me, Headmaster, after all that, do you know how you would feel?”

She had no response to that.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine ‘regret’ is very high on that list either,” I reclined in my seat again, before suddenly remembering something, and turning to the guards. “Oh, and for the record, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon did in fact corner me in an alleyway this morning, and I smacked her in the face to prevent her from cutting me up with glass.” I put extra stress on the last word. That was how bad it was gonna get. “So yeah, just wanted to get my side of the story out there before she could get hers.”

“Noted,” said the Captain with a stoic nod as I reclined back in my seat.

“If the situation was as severe as you suggest,” said the Headmaster, making all eyes turn back to her, “then you should have gone to the school administration instead of attempting to ‘deal’ with it on your own.”

You had to be kidding me. “Headmaster, I did. For the last three years. All that would happen was a suspension here, a slap on the fetlock there. Nothing permanent, nothing effective, nothing real. They’d just come back a day or three later and start doing it again, except worse, because at that point they’d know I tried to get them in trouble. Sometimes you’d even give them a free pass, for Sun’s sake, because there was ‘no evidence’. Or, like today, you’d pin it on me just because Diamond got to you first.

“So I hope you can understand, after years of getting almost no reliable results from you, exactly why I find your suggestion utterly absurd, and why I instead opted to punch Diamond Tiara in the face. Because she wouldn’t stop harassing me and my friends until I did.”

Finally finishing my tirade, I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I leaned back again with a sigh.

“And so, here we are.”

“…Here we are, indeed,” she echoed softly.

Another moment of silence.

“I think I know why I’m so calm, now,” I said, looking up at her. Our eyes met, and I gave her a resigned smile. “It’s because I’m tired, Miss Headmaster. I’m so very, very tired.”

Again, she did not respond.

Fortunately for her, she didn’t need to. Seconds later, the door opened, and in a spectacular moment of deja vu, in walked Filthy Rich, followed by a bruised Diamond Tiara holding an ice pack to her face, who was being nudged in by Silver Spoon and… a mare I didn’t recognize.

"Mister Filthy Rich, Miss Diamond Tiara, Miss Silver Spoon, Madame Proper Place," the Headmaster greeted them as they trotted in.

All of them nodded at the Headmaster, before their gazes snapped suddenly to the Guard Captain standing beside her. Hah. Bet you didn’t expect that. Mister Rich slowly turned to look at me, and I felt the corners of my mouth curve upward. He responded with a disapproving glare.

Shove it, old man.

Breaking eye contact, I instead looked up at the unfamiliar purple mare identified as Proper Place, who must be Diamond Tiara's mother. She had a straight mane that alternated between purple and white. The look in her icy blue eyes was sharp and narrow.

"Headmaster," she greeted curtly, before looking at me. "And you must be Miss Sweetie Belle. I have heard so very much about you."

"A pleasure," I said with a smile, nodding my head politely. She bore into me with her icy stare.

"I'm afraid I cannot share your pleasure," she replied, frowning. "After all, you're responsible for this." She waved a hoof at Diamond, who I turned to get a good look at for the first time since I, well, punched her in the face. She had a swollen cheek, one of her eyes was blackened, there was a blood-soaked tissue in one of her nostrils, and she had a few other shallow cuts and scrapes on her face. All in all, she looked… better than I expected her to look. She looked back at me, and did something that set my blood aflame.

She smiled. It was a haughty little smirk, one that simply said: “I've got you now.”

“I disagree,” I said, slowly turning to her mother. “I believe she’s responsible for that herself.”

Her mother gave me a perplexed glare, but whatever she was about to say was quickly cut off by the Headmaster.

“Ahem. Please take a seat, Miss Diamond. You've had quite a day.”

She climbed into the seat to my immediate left, and her parents fell into place behind her. As that was happening, the door opened once more to reveal… my sister.

Well, that was new.

“Hey sis,” I said, waving to her with unmasked cheer.

“Er, hello, Sweetie,” she replied uneasily, pausing at the doorway. She glanced at Diamond, still holding the ice pack to her face, bruises clearly visible—impossibly, Rarity's face paled even whiter.

“Good afternoon, Esteemed Lady Rarity,” said the Headmaster, drawing Rarity’s attention to her. “As you’ve been informed, your charge, Miss Sweetie Belle, was involved in an incident with a fellow student. You’ve been summoned to speak on her behalf.”

“For the first time in forever,” I sing-songed under my breath, though if anypony had heard, they made no indication of it.

“Yes, I was made aware of this,” she affirmed, trotting in and falling into place behind me, next to Miss Cheerilee. Guardsman Bulwark stepped in as well, closing the door behind him.

“Were you told exactly what had happened?” asked the Headmaster.

She glanced uneasily at Diamond. “The summons did not provide any… specifics, no,” Rarity replied.

“Very well.” The Headmaster cleared her throat. “Earlier this morning, I was informed by the school nurse that Miss Diamond Tiara here—” she waved at Diamond with a hoof “—had come into her office with a bruise on her face. She stated that she had been assaulted by Miss Sweetie Belle on the way to school.”

Rarity bristled at that. “I see.” She turned to me. “Is this true?”

“What, that I smacked her in the face? Yeah.”

“What brought this on?”

“She and Silver Spoon cornered me and tried to beat me up.”

“Liar,” came a voice to my left. My head snapped to Diamond, who looked at me with a scowl.

Rarity’s face lost a bit of color, but it quickly returned when she realized the implications. She turned to the Headmaster. “Er… well, if what Sweetie Belle is saying is true—”

“It’s not.”

“Diamond, be silent,” said the Headmaster. “I will call upon you when it is your turn to speak.”

By the Sun and Stars. I never thought I would see the day.

“Ahem,” continued Rarity. “If what Sweetie Belle was saying is true, then it was self-defense, yes?”

“There isn’t yet any proof supporting that notion,” replied the Headmaster. Oh hey, familiar territory again. “When I saw Sweetie Belle earlier today, there were no cuts or bruises, nothing indicating that she had been engaged in a fight.”

“That could simply mean that she was faster,” Romana stated flatly from beside the Headmaster.

“This is assuming,” came Madame Proper Place’s floral tone, “that it is as the young Miss claims. Diamond, what would you say happened?”

“I was there on the way to school,” Diamond said. “We take the same path.” You’re full of shit. “We just happened to see each other.” You were waiting for me. “And she came up to me, called me names, and smacked me.”

“There you have it,” said Miss Proper, as if this were all the evidence they needed. “My daughter was victim to an unprovoked assault.”

“So she says,” said the Captain, before the Headmaster could open her mouth. “Were there any witnesses?”

“I was with Diamond and saw everything,” said Silver Spoon immediately. “It’s just as she described.”

“Anyone else? Surely the path to school was rather populated.”

“We were… in a small path between homes,” she admitted slowly. “There was no one else around.”

“Then, unfortunately, it's just your word against hers,” the Captain said simply. “We cannot jump to any conclusions based on the information we have on hand.”

“I beg to differ,” said Miss Proper. “Why don’t we move on to the next incident? Perhaps that will shed some light on the type of person we’re dealing with.” She turned to look at me with a piercing gaze, and I rolled my eyes at her. I knew what I did and I knew why.

“Very well,” said the Headmaster. “Captain Romana, you told me that you were present when the incident occurred. Would you be so kind as to share what you saw?”

“Of course.” The Captain stepped forward. “At noon today, the Town Guard received a summons requesting our presence at the school, on behalf of Miss Diamond Tiara. My Lieutenant and I were stationed nearby, so we answered the summons. As we neared the schoolhouse, there was a crowd of children growing around what appeared to be a fight, and we heard someone shouting profanities.” Wait. Profanities? “Lieutenant, if you may?”

Guardsman Bulwark stepped forward. “If you’ll pardon my language: ‘Three fucking years. I am going to kill you, you piece of shit.’”

“Wait, what?!” I blurted out loud as the entire room flinched. “I actually said that out loud?!”

“You didn't just say it, you yelled it,” he corrected, fixing me with a hard stare. “At the top of your lungs. I heard it all the way from the street, and so could everyone nearby. Do you deny it?”

Everypony, including Rarity, Miss Cheerilee, and the Guards, was staring at me with either shock or dismay.

“I…” I didn’t remember saying that. “…No, sir. I don’t deny it. It had merely slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind? Very troubling,” said Madame Proper Place. “What happened afterwards, Captain?”

“As soon as I realized what was going on, I immediately rushed to the growing crowd and saw Miss Belle standing over Miss Tiara, who was on the floor, shielding herself with her forelegs. I ordered Miss Belle to stand down, but she ignored me and spat on Miss Tiara’s face.”

Everypony winced and turned to me, and I looked down at my hooves, crumbling under their glares. “I… I didn’t hear her at all,” I mumbled under my breath.

“That wasn’t the end, either,” continued the Captain. “I saw Miss Belle raise her hooves again, preparing to strike Miss Tiara as she lay prone.” I didn’t remember this. “Realizing Miss Belle would not comply, I was forced to physically restrain her. At first she resisted, swearing at me, demanding I let her go, and attempting to strike me.” That didn’t happen. “But after repeated orders, I managed to get her to remain still.”

There was a moment of silence before the Captain then turned to us. “To those who were present at the time, are there any inaccuracies in my account?”

“No,” said Diamond immediately.

“No,” affirmed Guardsman Bulwark.

“No,” said Silver Spoon.

“…No,” came Miss Cheerilee’s voice behind me. I whirled around and was met with a solemn gaze from my teacher, expressing more disappointment than I had ever seen in all my years under her tutelage.

What had I done?

As I slowly turned back around, I realized that every other eye in the room was on me.

“Miss Belle?” asked the Captain again.

I tried to visualize the fight again. Barely any of the details stuck out. All I remembered was throwing my lunchbox—after that, everything had gone red, and the next thing I could clearly remember was my face getting smashed against the pavement by Guardsman Bulwark.

“Sweetie…” came Rarity’s imploring voice. So many questions hung off that pregnant pause.

Calm down.

I began shaking in my seat as the weight of my actions finally bore down on me.

Calm down, you idiot.

My blood began to boil. My throat closed up.

HEY. My eyes shot open, and I stopped shaking. Calm the fuck down. This isn’t over. Answer her question.

I slowly looked up. Everyone was silent as the night, waiting with bated breath for my answer.

I breathed in, and I breathed out. Just like Rarity taught me.

“…No, Captain Romana,” I finally said. “There are no inaccuracies in your account.”

There was a hesitant shuffling of hooves.

“But,” I continued, “it doesn’t take into consideration what happened before.”

“Before?” the Captain quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, before.” I sat straighter, forcing my heart to slow its rapid-fire beating. I began recalling details as quickly as I could. “Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon came up to me while I was eating lunch with my friends. The two began using incredibly foul language to berate me about my cutie mark and my personal hobbies.”

“She’s lying,” Diamond said quickly.

“There were plenty of ponies watching at the time,” I snapped back. “They can verify my statements. They can also prove that Diamond then turned her words on my friends, who rose to my defense. The insults became extremely foul, such that I can’t really repeat them in this room.”

“Liar!” Diamond said again, not once looking my way.

“Repeat them,” said Captain Romana sternly.

I barely restrained a grin. Now this is something I can remember. “They called me a gay-mare, Apple Bloom a hillbilly hick, accused Button of being Apple Bloom’s ‘breeder’—” the entire room flinched at that slur, but I continued without missing a beat “—and threatened to geld him.”

The entire room paled.

“LIAR!” Diamond shouted.

“Silence!” ordered Captain Romana. “Was there anything else?”

“Nah,” I said, grinning. “I threw my lunchbox at her after that.”

“You threw your lunchbox at her?!” exclaimed Rarity.

“So she does admit to striking first!” exclaimed Miss Proper.

“Actually, I admitted to no such thing,” I replied smoothly, a key detail lighting up in my head. “Diamond struck first. She rammed my friend Apple Bloom out of the way and got into Button’s face.”

“LIAR!”

“Based on what happened this morning and yesterday,” I said, staring intently into the Guard Captain’s eyes, “and considering how she threatened my friends at lunch, I got scared that she was gonna hurt him, so I acted first to protect my friends.”

“She’s LYING!”

“With the entire school watching me,” I finished, crossing my forelegs.

“And then she proceeded to beat my daughter senseless!” shrieked Miss Proper suddenly. “Whatever my daughter had done, the amount of force she used was completely uncalled for—”

“I disagree!” retorted Rarity. “If your daughter presented a clear and present danger to other children, then it’s was absolutely justified for my sister to use as much force as she did! She acted to disable Diamond, thereby minimizing harm to everyone around them!”

“Oh yeah?!” interrupted Silver Spoon. “Then why did she ram into me, after she had already put Diamond in the ground?!”

Wait, that happened? Oh fuck it, just assume it happened and roll with it. “You came out of nowhere,” I said simply. “I didn’t mean to run into you, and I’m sorry, but you jumped in while I was trying to stop Diamond. I was just gonna force her forelegs down so that she couldn’t cause anyone else any harm before more help arrived. Thankfully, the Guard was there, and even though they took me down instead,” I glanced up at Captain Romana, “it stopped the fight anyways. Problem solved.”

“Then explain you wailing upon my daughter's face and screaming that you wanted to kill her!” demanded Madame Proper.

“I was angry,” I said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, you’ve practically been conditioned to be violent,” she replied.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t think I don’t see your cutie mark,” she spat. “You’re one of those violent video game players.”

Are you serious right now? “What I do in my spare time has nothing to do with—”

“It has everything to do with it,” she interrupted. “Honestly, I’m shocked no one else in here has made the connection! Of course a brutish little filly with such a savage little hobby would easily fall prey to violence and threats of equicide, when she conducts those very acts every day in the safety of her own living room!”

Oh my Stars, she actually was serious.

I glanced around the room—Rarity and Miss Cheerilee had rather perplexed faces, but… the Headmaster was nodding in agreement.

“It does bring to question the nature of your hobbies,” agreed the Headmaster. “They may make you susceptible to certain mindsets that actively promote violence.”

“Are you all kidding me?!” I shouted.

“Shoot first, ask questions later!” Miss Proper cried. “How could we expect any less!”

“This is completely unrelated and has nothing to do with this!” I yelled. I could feel my blood boiling.

“I agree completely with Sweetie Belle,” said Miss Cheerilee. “This is an ad hominem line of reasoning. She sought to defend her friends. Video games have absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“Of course they do!” screeched Miss Proper. “Diplomacy is obviously a foreign concept to her! If her immediate reaction to such a ‘threat’ is violence instead, then we should question what influences might be affecting her deranged thinking process!”

“What influences?!” I retorted. “How about the fact that this has been going on all week, or, Stars above, for years, with no end in sight?! Is that not ‘influence’ enough?! Sure, maybe I said some things I didn’t mean to, but I didn’t have any intention of actually killing her or anything like that! I was just angry, I wanted her to stop, and no amount of negotiating had worked up to this point—”

“Hah!” she guffawed. “As if you knew anything about negotiating, you—”

“Enough,” interrupted the Captain. “This line of reasoning is getting us nowhere. Diplomacy is only effective if both parties are open and willing to negotiate, and clearly there was a failing in this regard, otherwise a fight wouldn’t have happened. At this point it matters not, as the event has come and gone, and all we can do now is ensure it doesn’t happen again.” She turned to me. “You mentioned ‘yesterday’ and ‘this morning’. I assume you’re referring to the flower pot and and the alleyway? Did this influence your thinking?”

“I didn’t do that!” Diamond yelled.

“Yes!” I confirmed, ignoring her completely. “I mean, of course I would assume that she’d try to attack my friends, especially after she tried to drop a flower pot on my head, then next morning cornered me in an alleyway so she could have a go at me with a broken bottle—”

“She what?!” squealed Rarity.

“She picked up half of a broken bottle and threatened to cut me up.”

Something snapped inside Rarity’s head at that point, her face contorting in silent rage she caught up with the bombshell I had just dropped. Every eye in the room turned to Diamond.

“She’s LYING!” Diamond yelled nervously. “She’s a filthy liar! Tell them what happened, Silver…!” She turned to her friend… who remained dead silent, only staring back with an expression I wasn't sure I could describe with words.

…No, there was a word.

Haunted.

“Silver? Come on, speak up! Tell them what a psychotic, pathological liar—”

“I have heard ENOUGH!” said the Headmaster, slamming a hoof onto the desk. “It is clear that this situation has escalated completely out of control!”

“And whose fault is that?” piped a voice, one that had lain silent for such a long time that I had completely forgotten she had been there. Slowly, Miss Cheerilee stepped past my chair.

“I-I do not—”

“Headmaster, you have seen what has come of inaction,” Miss Cheerilee said sternly. “It is time you end this, regardless of whatever external influ—”

“Do not utter another word!” hissed the Headmaster, making Captain Romana quirk an eyebrow. Glancing over, I was surprised Diamond’s family hadn’t already drowned in their own nervous sweat yet.

“Then act,” said Miss Cheerilee with finality.

“I… very well.”

The Headmaster straightened her frazzled suit. “It is clear that both parties present have had an ongoing conflict that has spanned quite some time.”

“Three years,” I repeated dully. Miss Cheerilee threw me a warning look, which shut me up real fast. Okay, let's not piss off the pissed-off teacher, Sweetie.

“Ahem. Clearly, there are many more factors at play which we have not taken into account.” She glanced at Diamond’s half of the room before continuing. “To that end, I believe we must conduct a much more thorough investigation of the related parties and their behaviors.”

What?! You were seriously trying to stall this? I didn’t think so.

“I want the Guard involved,” I declared.

The Headmaster’s eyes widened in alarm. Gotcha. “T-that is not in your place to demand, Miss Belle! This matter is beyond the jurisdiction of the Town Guard!”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree, Headmaster,” said the Captain, stepping forward. “As you have allowed the conflict to escalate to this degree, I have determined that the school administration has proven incapable of maintaining a safe environment for these two students. With the authority granted to me by the Mayor of Ponyville, I declare the Town Guard’s official involvement in this matter.”

I grinned as the Headmaster went completely pale, and it took only moments for Diamond’s family to follow suit. I wondered what such an investigation could dig up, hmm?

“So be it!” said Madame Proper angrily, stepping forward. “Then, as Diamond Tiara’s mother, I formally express my intent to press charges against Miss Sweetie Belle for assault and battery, and demand her immediate arrest!”

Oh HORSEAPPLES.

Captain Romana stiffened, and every head jolted to Madame Proper, who smirked in response.

“V-very well!” declared Rarity, who placed a hoof on my shoulder and strode forward to face her. “As Sweetie Belle’s legally-recognized guardian, I hereby move forward with my previously-expressed intent to press charges on her behalf against Miss Diamond Tiara for attempted assault and battery, both of which have already been discussed prior with the Guard!”

“Previously-expressed?!” uttered Miss Proper, who stepped back in shock.

“Indeed! We’ve already filed a report to the Town Guard and have begun investigating your daughter’s misbehaviors! She will be forced to see justice!”

The Headmaster suddenly stood up, stammering. “I-I assure you that none of this will be—”

“I’m afraid your ‘assurances’ will not deter me from protecting my charge, Headmaster,” Rarity said coolly. “You said it yourself—this has gone on for far too long, and I demand action!”

This was getting out of control! How could I get them to stop?!

I desperately looked around the room—Miss Cheerilee was stunned speechless, Rarity and Miss Proper were glaring daggers at each other, and Diamond was shaking in her horseshoes, clearly panicked.

I did a double-take. What had her so frightened?

I watched as a brown hoof pressed against the pink filly’s shoulder to steady her shaking. I looked up at Mister Rich, who stood silently over her with a grim expression.

I couldn’t help but stare at this small gesture of comfort, a bastion of calm in a sea of fury.

Suddenly, like he knew I had been watching, he looked up at me. As our eyes met, his face contorted into one of pain, and a memory of his voice faded into my mind.

“Nothing good can come of this.”

It sounded like a threat. But what if it really was a warning after all?

I shook my head at him gravely, resigning myself to his whim and doing everything in my power to communicate to my very last and unexpected lifeline that this was not the outcome I wanted. "Please, you can stop this! Do something!"

He blinked at me, as if deciphering the meaning behind my gesture. He then looked down at the floor but for a moment, working out something in his mind, before meeting my gaze once more and nodding curtly.

I returned the nod, then waited with bated breath for him to make his move.

Suddenly, he burst forward. “Ladies!” he said loudly, striding between the two snarling mares. “Ladies, if you would please compose yourselves. Perhaps there is a better solution available to us.”

Both mares pivoted to him.

“And what, pray tell, is that?!” snarled Rarity.

“Stay out of this, Richie,” snarled Proper, “This is between me and this harlot—”

“Harlot?!” Rarity shrieked. “Why you—”

“Actually,” I interrupted loudly, “it’s between me and Diamond!”

“Is that so?!” Miss Proper whirled on me. “Yet you chose to bring all of us into this!”

“Miss Proper, stand down!” warned Captain Romana. “The core of this issue still lies with Miss Belle and Miss Tiara!”

“And I am Diamond Tiara’s legal guardian,” Madame Proper growled.

“As is your husband,” I countered, “and personally, I would like to hear what he has to say.”

“I agree,” said the Headmaster somewhat shakily. “Mister Rich, if you would kindly.”

Crisis momentarily averted. I turned to Mister Rich, wondering what he had in store for us.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” said Mister Rich. He cleared his throat, then spoke. “It’s transparently clear that this prolonged conflict has severely impacted both my daughter and Miss Sweetie Belle, such that we have both resolved to commit to legal action. If we move forward with these claims, I fear this would become a rather drawn-out problem, and I would rather not have such a thing occur.”

“And how do you propose to resolve it?” asked the Guard Captain.

“Simple.” He turned to me, staring intensely. “Miss Sweetie Belle, my wife and I are willing to drop our charges against you if you agree to drop your charges against Diamond.”

Really.

“Absolutely not!” snapped Miss Proper. “I will not stand for—”

As much as I wanted to finally put Diamond in her place… I couldn’t risk everything we had to do so.

“Preposterous!” snapped Rarity. “After everything she’s done?! How could you even possibly—”

“I agree.”

“Err… what?” Rarity turned to me, as did everyone in the room. “Sweetie Belle, what are you—”

“It’s fine, sis,” I told her, then turned back to Mister Rich. He was throwing me a bone, and I had to play this right. I mentally counted the cards I had in my hand. “I agree to drop all charges against Diamond—I’m not even going to ask for an apology. But I do want some kind of promise that she won’t start trouble with me again in the future.”

I glared at Diamond, who refused to meet my gaze. I turned back to Mister Rich. “If that can happen, I won’t need to bring this up ever again. I’d rather avoid making it any bigger than it needs to be.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” spat Madame Proper. “After all, the Guard Captain is present.”

“Yeah, and if this had been dealt with sooner,” I countered, “it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. Surprisingly enough, Mister Rich actually has the right idea.”

“That’s quite the backhoofed compliment,” he remarked stiffly.

Oops. Let’s not bite the hand that feeds, yeah?

“Forgive me, Mister Rich,” I quickly said to him with a slight bow of my head. “I’m just bitter about this whole mess. But I’m sincerely grateful that you’re willing to help me lay this thing to rest peacefully.”

“I can understand that,” Mister Rich said with a curt nod. “And I’m likewise glad that you’re willing to see reason. For my part, I will do what I can to curb my daughter’s behavior.” He shot a glare at Diamond, who quailed.

Unbelievable. I never thought I’d see the day.

He turned back to the rest of the room. “Is this arrangement agreeable to the congregation?” No one said anything. Miss Cheerilee sat in open-mouthed shock, and Miss Proper was pointedly avoiding her husband’s gaze. He smiled brightly. “Splendid! Then we can table this discussion, and this entire conflict, once and for all. Headmaster, are there any further issues that require our attention?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied, a little steadiness returning to her voice now that she was out of the proverbial fire. “Because of the extremely inappropriate behavior that both Miss Diamond Tiara and Miss Sweetie Belle have exhibited today, I will still have to issue suspensions.” She turned to us. “I implore both of you to use this time to reflect on your actions. Hopefully, by the time you are ready to return, you will be prepared to assist us in seeking a long-term solution to this problem. Is this agreeable?”

“Yes,” I said immediately.

“I agree as well,” responded Mister Rich. “I’m glad we could reach a consensus.” Ushering Diamond out of her seat, he made to leave. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster. Thank you, Miss Sweetie Belle, for seeing reason. And thank you, Guardsmares, for your presence.”

With that, he left. I stood up as well, sparing a glance at Rarity and Miss Cheerilee, who returned it with silent nods. Together, we moved towards the door.

However, I turned around to look at the Headmaster once more—she had fallen silent and was staring off into the distance.

I addressed her. “We will find a solution to this, right?”

She turned slowly to me and nodded grimly. “I would be remiss in not seeking one. We’re clearly past a point of no return, Miss Belle.”

“Glad to hear it. That’s further than we’ve ever been in years.”

And without another word, I trotted out.

“By the Stars!” exclaimed Rarity as we walked through the hall. “I could barely tell whether that was a disciplinary hearing or a royal tribunal.”

“Actually, that went better than I expected,” I said with a sigh, stretching my legs and neck.

Rarity stared at me. “You’re joking, right?”

“Oh, it’s usually much worse than that,” said Miss Cheerilee. “It likely would have ended much differently had the Guard not been present.”

“Oh?” asked Guardsman Bulwark, who had followed us out. “Why is that?”

“Generally those are a lot more one-sided,” I explained grimly. “Usually Diamond just gets away with it. You guys being there basically prevented that from happening.”

“That’s… troubling to hear,” he replied slowly.

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Rarity. “And… I have to admit, that’s essentially what just happened now, as well.” Rarity gave me a rather confused look. “Sweetie, I must ask exactly why you were so quick to accept Mister Rich’s offer.”

“We talked about it this morning, Rarity,” I told her. “We really can’t afford a legal battle, especially not with their family.”

“Then why did you ask the Guard to get involved?” asked Miss Cheerilee.

“Errr…” I struggled to find the words to explain. “It was… to scare the Headmaster into doing something useful?”

“It was a bluff,” explained Guardsman Bulwark. “She was hoping our involvement would intimidate Diamond’s family into a more desirable course of action.”

“Unfortunately, it backfired for Miss Belle,” came the voice of the Captain as she approached us from behind. “Madame Proper called you on your bluff by countering with a legal threat.”

“Yeah, that could have gone really badly,” I muttered. “For a while, I thought we were screwed, until Mister Rich made that offer.”

“You still have much to learn about diplomacy, little Belle.” She ruffled my mane. “You even managed to drag your elder sister into it.”

“Captain, I made that decision on my own,” assured Rarity. “Quite frankly, justice needed to be dealt.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a fight we can win for sure.” I looked at my hooves. “I don't know enough about court to know if it would work, and I don’t know if the explanation I used today would have been enough. It’s not a gamble I wanted to make.”

“The little Belle is wise to be cautious,” said the Captain. “Miss Diamond’s family is very powerful. No doubt their legal counsel would be of the absolute highest caliber.”

Rarity sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m still surprised Mister Rich made that offer in the first place,” I muttered.

“Indeed. You should consider yourself lucky that he was willing to head it off before things got worse,” said the Captain. As we approached the door, she turned to us. “This is where we must part. Little Belle, I trust you will stay out of trouble?”

“I can make no guarantees, Captain Romana,” I said with a smile.

“I am not joking, Miss Belle.” Her expression hardened, and I froze under its intensity. “Your behavior today was grossly inappropriate, regardless of whatever pretense you may have used to justify it. Had that conversation gone any worse, I would be leading you out of this school in fetlinks right now.”

I shivered under the scrutiny of the Captain’s gaze. The Crusaders and I had been admonished for our antics many times, but never had the Captain spoken to us like this before.

I’d been saying that about a lot of ponies, lately…

“I… I understand, Captain,” I responded quietly. “And I’m sorry. I should have known better, and acted less rashly.”

“Yes, you should have. I hope to expect more rational behavior from you in the future.”

“Of course.”

“Lady Rarity, Miss Cheerilee,” she nodded at each of them, then briskly trotted out the door with Guardsman Bulwark in tow, leaving the three of us alone in the school hall.

It was then that the weight that had building up all day finally overwhelmed me like a rushing tsunami. My legs gave way, and I suddenly collapsed to the floor on my belly.

“Sweetie?!”

“Whatever’s the matter, dear?!”

I barely noticed the faces of the two mares leaning down in front of me as I gazed forward into nothingness. The day’s events flooded into my head, bursting to the forefront like a volcano that could no longer suppress its fury. I shuddered as I was overcome by hundreds of emotions at once.

Get a grip on yourself, Sweetie Belle.

For a few moments, I struggled to control my emotions—but finally, I was able to take a deep breath.

In. Out. Just like Rarity taught you.

“I’m… I’m okay,” I finally said, my voice trembling slightly. “I just… I just need a bit. Gimme a moment.”

“Are you sure?” asked Rarity in concern.

“Let’s give her some space,” said Miss Cheerilee. “Take your time, Sweetie Belle.”

I weakly nodded at Miss Cheerilee in thanks, and submerged in my thoughts as my mind slowly began to process the day’s events.

The alley. I struck Diamond and revealed my trump card early, which she used against me as soon as she got the chance.

Lunch. I lost control of myself, went berserk, and attacked Diamond, not only causing the Guard Captain herself to get involved, but almost completely discrediting my case against Diamond.

The office. I impulsively made a demand that allowed Miss Proper to escalate the situation completely beyond my control.

Mister Rich. I put myself at his mercy, allowing him to end on his terms and resulting in a stalemate that changed nothing in the end.

So many mistakes. I stared at my hooves—these stupid, clumsy hooves, which only hours ago had been attempting to crush a filly’s face to a pulp.

When would it end? When would I stop screwing up?

“Sweetie Belle…?” ventured Rarity’s voice cautiously.

Enough. What’s done is done. The charges have been dropped both ways.

Yeah, and we were right back where we started.

Better than jail. Take what you’ve been given and go.

With a deep sigh, I rose back to my hooves again. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” asked Rarity again.

“I dunno about that,” I mumbled with a deep sigh. “But there’s not much else we can do now.”

“You’ve had a long day,” said Miss Cheerilee, putting a hoof on my shoulder. “Go home and get some rest. It’ll be a couple days before you can return, so you might as well take advantage of it.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.” I smiled weakly up at my teacher. “Thanks so much, Miss Cheerilee. For everything.”

“What are friends for?” She smiled back at me, then stepped back. “Go on.”

“Come along, dear,” said Rarity, her hoof taking Miss Cheerilee’s place. “Farewell for now, Cheerilee.”

She waved a final goodbye, and we stepped outside.

“Mister Rich? What are you doing here?”

The stallion, whom I had expected to be long gone by now, was standing just at the edge of the school yard, facing away from us towards something in the distance.

When he did not answer, I approached, but found myself deterred by an alabaster hoof. I looked towards Rarity, who shook her head.

“Let’s just go home,” she pleaded. Somehow, she seemed more exhausted than I was.

“I’m sorry, Rarity,” I said quietly, “but I need to know what’s going on. Go ahead without me. I’ll talk to him on my own.” I softly pushed her hoof out of the way. When she made no move to stop me, I walked past her and approached the stallion slowly.

“Mister Rich?”

“Miss Belle,” he said, not turning to me. His gaze was focused towards the street. I trotted up next to him to see what he was looking at, and noticed the distant figure of Miss Proper storming away, Diamond Tiara in hoof. What in Sun’s name was going on?

“Why are you still here?” I asked him. “Why aren’t you with your family?”

“They went ahead of me,” he replied simply. “Miss Belle, do you have a moment?”

What was this about? “I suppose I do.”

“Good. Then let’s dispense with the formalities, shall we?” he replied, finally turning to glare at me coldly. “Because I very much would like to ask just what in Sun’s name you were thinking today.”

I stepped back a bit at that. “About what, specifically? A lot happened—”

“Everything!” he threw his forelegs into the air. “Attacking my daughter? Filing charges?! I thought I warned you that nothing good could come of this. Clearly you did not take my warning to heart!”

“Mister Rich, look, I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hooves up placatingly. “I tried, I really did. What happened at lunch was… a serious mistake. Something in me snapped. I lost control.”

“That goes without saying,” he snarled.

“But she wouldn’t stop!” I shot back defensively. “I was tired! I was tired as all Stars, and I just couldn’t take it anymore! What else could you possibly have expected me to do?”

“I don’t know!” he said in exasperation, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Deal with it?”

“Deal with it?” I repeated disbelievingly. “Are you insane?! Mister Rich, ever since I got my cutie mark, Diamond’s been making things worse and worse for me and my friends. If she hadn’t started this whole mess, we wouldn’t be here!”

“Ergh! I know, I know! I just… ergh!” He began pacing madly. This was… really weird. I had never seen the level-headed businessman so out of sorts before. “I just wish we could have at least avoided this all until you graduated.”

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Why are you so worried about my graduation?”

“I’m not worried about yours, I’m worried about my daughter’s.” He buried his face in a hoof, then started pacing erratically. “For Sun’s sake, we’re only a few months away. Having to deal with this on top of everything else is not good for my heart, no ma’am.”

“So… you just wanted your daughter to be able to make it to graduation.”

“Of course,” he grunted. “Is it not fair for me to simply want the best for her?”

Not if it meant I had to deal with the worst of her. But I held my tongue back as the memory of his comforting gesture towards his daughter flashed in my mind, along with a nagging question.

“Is that why you offered to drop all charges if I did?”

At this, he suddenly stopped his pacing, throwing me an irritated stare. “What’re you talking about? I only did that because you let me. You clearly had us right where you wanted.”

Huh?! I stared up at the significantly-taller stallion. “…I don’t think I quite understand, Mister Rich.”

He could clearly see the confusion on my face. “…Didn’t you? When you shook your head at me, I assumed you were… giving me a chance to stop this. That you were offering me a way out.”

…WHAT. I could barely comprehend the mere suggestion that, at any point, I had held the richest man in Ponyville at my mercy.

“…Mister Rich,” I said slowly, “the honest truth is that I was begging you to offer me a way out.”

“I… What?” He stepped back a moment. “Begging me? Why? What in Equestria did you have to lose? You would have had justice over us!”

“Rarity and I can’t afford a legal battle against your family,” I admitted shakily. “And we can’t afford better lawyers than you. I figured you would have just run us over. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

He flinched. “Who do you take me for, Miss Belle? I have no desire to bankrupt your family.”

Could have fooled me. “That’s not what I meant, Mister Rich. You would have been able to protect your daughter.”

“I’m not foolish enough to try protecting my daughter by risking her future in a legal battle,” he muttered almost sarcastically.

“How would it have been a risk? Surely, you would have won had you done so?”

He paused, clearly struggling to decide whether it was wise to speak further. “I… can almost guarantee you that we wouldn’t have,” he replied hesitantly.

I blinked. Then another piece clicked into place.

“Oh, right, of course, you lining the Headmaster’s pocket.” I rolled my eyes. “Isn't that your fault for putting her in your pocket in the first place?"

“It wasn’t my decision!” he spat back defensively.

“Then why is your name on the memorial plaques in the hall?!”

"I assure you, those are there for perfectly legal reasons!” he countered defensively. “I helped fund and organize the expansion of your school! On top of helping to expand Ponyville's infrastructure, it was to ensure my daughter had a quality place of learning! Everything I do is for Diamond's sake!”

“Really,” I said skeptically. “Like bribing the Headmaster to keep Diamond out of trouble.”

“Ergh!” he stomped a hoof angrily. “Do you think I want to be in that position? It’s not my choice!”

“Of course it is! Instead of bailing your daughter out of trouble every time it hits, why don’t you just do the logical thing and get her to behave?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried?!” he said in frustration, and he started pacing again. “That girl is just… insatiable! Uncontrollable!”

“And whose fault is that?” I challenged.

“She doesn’t respect me,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Doesn’t listen to me at all. Just uses me as a crutch to escape all her problems.”

“And you let her!”

“As if I have a choice!” he retorted, whirling on me. “Between her and my wife, I just—”

“Your wife?” I asked, and he froze suddenly. “What does Miss Proper have anything to do with this?”

“I…” he opened and closed his jaw repeatedly, struggling to come up with words.

“Mister Rich?” I asked.

He sighed heavily, breaking our gaze to stare at the dirt beneath his hooves.

“…It's complicated.”

There it was again.

“Mister Rich, please,” I implored. “Please just tell me. What in Sun's name is going on?”

A moment of silence passed.

“I… I’ve said too much,” he said uneasily. “But I believe it’s time we laid this matter to rest. After all, we reached an agreement—all charges dropped, both ways.”

“Yeah, which is great for you,” I said bitterly, “since it means Diamond gets away scot-free, once again, and I go back to square one, wondering whether I’ll be hassled by her tomorrow.”

He frowned. “Miss Belle, you’ve both been suspended. There won’t be a tomorrow.”

“You know what I mean,” I said flatly.

“And I have already assured you that I will do what I can to curb my daughter’s behavior.”

“I hate to say it Mister Rich, but to be honest, after everything I’ve seen you and Diamond do, I find that very hard to believe.”

He sighed, then he gently rested a hoof on my shoulder—whoa, I don’t think so. I immediately backed up a step, leaving his hoof to hang in the air. He stared silently at me for a moment before letting his leg fall to the floor, and he gave me a sad smile.

“Miss Belle… I’m sorry,” he said softly. “For everything. Believe me when I say I didn’t want this for my… for either of you.”

I blinked back at him, taken completely by surprise from this sudden attitude change. But I couldn’t help a slight tinge of angry skepticism. If that were true, why didn’t you try harder to prevent it?

His expression hardened. “That being said… I tried to warn you, and you still chose to move against my daughter. I hope you are prepared for the consequences.”

I broke into a scowl. “Are you threatening me again?”

“This is not a threat, this is a warning, just as before,” he growled. “I did what I could to prevent it, but you have stirred the hornet’s nest, and I cannot predict what will happen next. I can only pray to the Stars that this will end well… for either of us.”

That last, cryptic statement hung in the air. What in Sun’s name did you have to lose?

He didn’t elaborate further. “I’m sorry, Miss Belle, but I must be leaving. I bid you good day, and…” He paused. “Thank you for this conversation. Despite the unpleasant circumstances, it was… illuminating.”

With that, he nodded his head and turned to walk away towards the street. I opened my mouth to call out to him, but stopped myself. Was there really anything left to say?

No. I’ve done all I could. The rest was up to the school.

I sighed heavily, and, staring out towards the street, I began the long walk home.

The sun was setting over the mountain ranges beyond the City to the west, bathing the roof of the Tower in a bright orange glow. I stood in the center of the main plaza as dozens of Everfree Crusaders all around me went about their business, flitting between the various shops and other market stalls. A few waved to me, recognizing me as the guild leader of Sanctuary, and I barely spared them a wave as I trotted briskly through, seeking my friends.

It took only a moment for me to spot them relaxing in our usual spot by the balcony overlooking the city. As I trotted up to them, I noticed they were having a rather animated conversation.

“…and then the Captain had to tackle her to the ground to get her to—”

I winced.

“You have to be kidding me,” I growled.

All of them jumped, turning quickly towards me as I approached.

“Button,” I glared at the colt, who shrunk as I stepped up to him. “Why in Sun’s name are you telling everypony what happened today?”

“…Sorry, Sweetie,” muttered Mash.

“Please do not blame Mash,” said Stranger. “We noticed he was rather distressed, and asked him what was wrong.”

“Yeah, Freya wouldn’t stop railing on him until he told us,” said Zaid with a chuckle. “Then when he said you had kept someone from beating him up, we were like, ‘duuuuude, you have got to tell us this story—’”

I sighed. “Please just give it a rest, guys. I just got home, and I spent the entire last two hours trying to keep myself from getting arrested.”

“Stars, was it that bad?” asked Mash.

“I got tackled by the Captain of the Town Guard,” I muttered sullenly. “What do you think?”

“But you didn’t get in trouble, right?” asked Zaid.

“I managed to get out of it by the skin of my teeth,” I said with a sigh. “I explained to them that I was just protecting my friends.”

“Were you?” asked Stranger.

“Yes… and no,” I admitted reluctantly. “After I threw the first punch, I kind of… winked out.”

“‘Winked out?’” asked Zaid.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I shrugged helplessly. “It’s like, my mind went blank, and my body started moving on its own.”

“Sounds a lot like bloodlust,” said Freya simply.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a gryphon thing?”

“Only the name is,” she waved a talon. “Most other species call it ‘fight-or-flight’. Legionnaires are trained to control it, but it’s just a thing that everyone does. If you feel threatened or pressured enough, your body’s instincts take over.” She looked up at me. “Though to be honest, I’m surprised it turned out that way for you—a fight response isn’t common in a non-predatory species like ponies, and especially not in kids your age.”

That didn’t make me feel any better. “Whatever it was, it took me over. Diamond Tiara was on the ground already, and I would have kept going had the Guard not stopped me.”

“And you’re lucky they did,” came Shadow’s voice. “I’m surprised they didn’t arrest you.”

I flinched. We all looked up at Shadow, who was leaning back against a planter. The umbra had been silent this entire time, and didn’t meet my gaze as he polished away at his sniper rifle.

“Would you rather they did?” I asked him.

“No,” he replied gruffly. “But I would not have disagreed.”

“Shadow’s right,” said Freya, making us look back at her. “Whatever reason you had to lose control, you lost control, and it could have ended badly.”

I sighed heavily. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Be better,” he remarked bluntly.

I turned to the stallion. Out of everyone on my team, I could always rely on him for a straight, unfiltered opinion. Didn’t matter what it was about—a strategy I was planning, or a gun’s stats, or even me—he would never sugarcoat his answers.

After having spent so many of my early months in the game being coddled by other players, I had found his biting honesty refreshing.

And, at this particular moment, somewhat irritating.

“Shadow, do you have something you wanna say to me?”

He finally looked up at me. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He put down his rifle, stood up, and trotted to me. “Don’t get me wrong, Dovetail. You’re our guild leader, and I respect that. You do your job, and you do it damn well better than anyone I know.

“But you’re short-tempered and impulsive. You’re quick to anger. You lose control of your emotions too easily. And sometimes it affects not only your attitude, but your ability to lead us.”

I blinked. “That was… ouch.”

“I’m not even done yet. You get angry in the Crucible. Furious. You’re a sore loser, and your mood sours if you aren’t winning.”

“It’s just a video game,” I replied defensively.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “You and your behavior is real. And we see it all the time. Sometimes you even turn it on us, especially if it’s a cooperative mission and we’re not doing too well. Do you ever notice?”

“I… I mean, yeah, I guess sometimes I do get a little short with you guys,” I admitted sheepishly. “Is it really that bad?”

“You can get a little scary,” admitted Mash.

“You were downright ferocious during the Infinite Citadel,” said Freya with a grin.

“Some of your more imaginative swears can be rather… alarming,” noted Stranger.

“I actually think it’s kinda adorable, in a badass sort of way,” quipped Zaid. All of us turned to glare at him. “Err… I’ll shut up now.”

“My point is,” continued Shadow, “your impulses are something you need to learn how to keep in check, or it’s gonna get you in serious trouble.”

“Hel, it sounds like it almost did,” said Freya. “And I don’t want to see that happen to ya, kid.”

I sighed heavily. “I know, I know.” I slumped down on the stairs sullenly. “I’m starting to realize that there’s a lot of things I need to learn how to keep in check.”

“I have full faith that you will,” said Stranger, trotting over to sit down beside me. “You’re a bright young filly, and you’re still growing. Restraint is something that will come to you in time, but only if you let it.”

“Yeah. I’ll try.” I gave everyone a weak smile. “Well… thanks for being honest with me about this, I guess.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” said Zaid cheerfully. “Well, aside from being totally useless target practice for the enemy team. Speaking of which, feel like carrying us through the Crucible for a few rounds today?”

“Aw, c’mon, you’re not that bad,” I grinned. “But sure, why not?”

“Sorry, I think I might be out for this one,” said Shadow, standing up suddenly. “Just got a summon.”

“Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll see you around, Shadow. And… thanks.” I held out a hoof to the stallion.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, bumping my outstretched hoof. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders—just remember not to lose it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied with a smirk.

He chuckled back. “Take it easy, Dove.”

Shadow logged off, and his character winked out of existence.

–

– –

– – – –

– –

–

I logged off, and my character, Shadow Song, winked out of existence. The stratoscreen’s ethereal image dissipated, shrouding my room in total darkness.

All things considered, Sweetie Belle received that quite… well? I was rather stunned she didn’t lash out at me.

I let out a soft yawn, stretching my forelegs a fair bit to loosen the stiffness my body had produced through hours of inaction. I then detached the communications headset from my lobe, delicately placing the advanced piece of modified hardware upon the end table beside me.

Now, wherever had that summons come to rest…?

Unable to pinpoint the piece of paper in the darkness, I trotted over to the curtains, pulling them open with a tug of the drawstring.

My eyes had to adjust from the abrupt change in brightness as sunlight streamed through the screen window that dominated most of the western wall. In the sitting area of my room, several pieces of ornate jeweled tableware reflected the light from the setting sun, producing a dozen points of dazzling color that danced across the walls.

It was a rather breathtaking spectacle that could only be achieved at this hour of the day, one that I never grew wary of. It set my mind at ease, and I stood motionless for a few moments, idly partaking in the beauty of the fleeting light show.

But alas, I was being entreated by somepony, and they likely expected a reply. Best I not tarry.

I glanced over to the door, where a piece of paper had quietly slid under the crack perhaps a quarter-hour ago. Considering how much time had passed, I imagined the sender must have been rather anxious for my reply—Mash’s retelling of the day’s events had demanded my full attention, and Dovetail’s sudden appearance had only delayed me further.

I trotted past my stratoscreen—ah, silly me, I nearly forgot, I thought suddenly as I passed my Hoofbox, tossing a quilt over the game console to obscure it from view—and made my way to the door, finally picking up the piece of paper and unfolding it. With a hoof, I adjusted my glasses slightly to bring the writing into focus.

The floral cursive script was immediately recognizable.

We pegged the journalist who ran the interviews from this morning’s newspaper article, and I think he’s gonna help us write something using some of what he knows about that harlot and her friends. Want in on the action? Swing by in 15.

It took a few moments for me to realize that my jaw was agape. I shut it, and quickly re-read the short summon. If she meant the article about our guild this morning… then she must have been referring to Noteworthy.

A sudden burst of panic surged through my body.

I was interviewed by him as well, and I was quite certain I didn’t let anything slip regarding my identity… but if she pieced some of the information together…

I dropped the paper as I realized what was at risk.

No. This could not end well. I could be linked to Shadow.

Immediately, I slung a saddlebag onto my back and rushed out the door, brushing my mane behind my head and barely acknowledging the servants I passed in the halls.

“Is everything alright, young miss?” called one, the Head Servant, as I approached the door. “You seem troubled.”

“I’m heading out tonight,” I replied curtly. “An emergency came up that I must attend to immediately. Please inform my family that I will not be available for dinner this evening.”

“As you wish.” He bowed as I trotted briskly past him.

I turned a corner and burst through the front door. "Celestia grant me speed," I whispered silently as I galloped into the sunlit streets of Ponyville.

Author's Note

Dedicated to my bullies, for not only giving me something to punch, but for also being the reason I needed to punch something in the first place. Funny how life works that way, eh?

Credits:
Thanks to my editors Sharp Quill and Zaid ValRoa. Ironically, despite this chapter being the longest thus far, it required the least amount of editing. Maybe I'm getting better at this.

Personal Thoughts:
As of this chapter, I've finally caught up with my first draft, and my backlog. The fight scene was the fourth one I ever wrote, though it's much different now.

This also means that, for the first time, I do not have a single word written beyond this point. Thankfully, my real life obligations are starting to let up, so I should be able to maintain your weekly scheduled programming.

Which is good, because I'm definitely going to need the extra time. As of the last scene, this moment marks a stark departure from the usual modus operandi of this story. I've been planning to introduce a second POV character for quite some time now, but I didn't want to do it until I was confident I'd be able to pull it off.

Let's hope I can run with it.

Now playing:
11. "Test Drive"
Composed by John Powell
How to Train Your Dragon: Music from the Motion Picture

|♫| ɪ. The Prison

“History's lords have ever painted the future
in tones of fire and shadow.”
—Astrolord Cloak

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

How unusual.

One could be forgiven for not knowing precisely what my thoughts referred to as "unusual", as there were a great many things unusual about that particular moment in time.

It was unusual that I had found myself slowed to a halt in the middle of Ponyville’s hectic streets, despite them being flooded with ponies as they made their way home from long days of work and school.

It was unusual that the cause of my sudden distraction had been a pair of mares trotting past, despite me rarely holding any particular interest in the common folk of our quaint little township.

It was unusual that those two mares had chosen to adorn themselves in rather heavy beige trench coats and hats, clearly intending to obscure their identities despite the heat of the summer afternoon.

It was unusual that the smaller of these mares was burdened with what appeared to be a black cardboard box, its sleek design boldly proclaiming its contents in gigantic lettering for all to see: “HOOFBOX”.

But above all else, it was unusual that I had immediately recognized the squeaky timbre of the little mare as she had passed by, unaware that her attempts to remain disguised were being entirely compromised by her excited nattering.

As the two mares vanished into the crowd, I blinked as a thought came unbidden to my mind:

What in Stars’ name was a Hoofbox, and why was Sweetie Belle, of all ponies, carrying one?

“Silver Spoon.”

I blinked. Shaken from my reverie, I turned to face the filly who had addressed me.

“Yes, Diamond Tiara?” I replied to my best friend with a smile.

“We’re going to my store,” the filly informed me coolly, as if I didn’t already know.

I raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“You standing there in the middle of the street isn’t gonna get us there any faster.”

Ah. Well. She wasn't wrong there. “My apologies.” I swept my bangs from out of my face. “For a moment I thought I had spotted someone I recognized.”

Diamond quirked an eyebrow at me. “Who?”

“A friend,” I said simply, trotting past her. “I was mistaken.”

“Naturally,” she replied sardonically as she matched my pace. “It’s not like there’s anyone else in this backwater besides me that’s worth spending time with.”

“True enough,” I agreed with a nod, and we trotted through the town square.

Two years’ worth of growth had done little to elevate Ponyville beyond its status as an austere little farming town. It was still wooden frames and thatched roofs as far as the eye can see. Its advancement was no doubt stymied by the citizenry, who were annoyingly content with maintaining the town's everlasting mediocrity. The only major concession they had made in recent memory was the expansion of the Barnyard Bargains retailer, which had become a large shopping plaza where several storefronts now made their home.

Of course, Diamond Tiara took no small amount of pride in this fact, seizing every opportunity to remind our schoolmates that it was her family’s business that was responsible for contributing the lion’s share of contemporary culture to Ponyville.

‘Contemporary’, perhaps, but ‘culture’ was rather… generous. It was a glorified department store.

We approached the structure in question, its utilitarian Manehattan-esque masonry a stark contrast to the rest of Ponyville’s humble wooden architecture. As we trotted through the open doors, Diamond turned to me.

“How much are the tickets for tonight’s show again?”

“A hundred bits for front row seats,” I replied.

“Cool.” She walked up to the counter, where a teenage stallion was muzzle-deep in a comic book. She rapped her hoof on the counter’s surface. “Hey, you!”

The pimply teenager jumped as he was forced out of his reverie. “Er, yes miss, hello, welcome to Rich’s Barnyard—“

“It’s me, you pathetic breeder,” she snarled at him.

“Oh! Yes, Miss Diamond, what can I—“

“I need bits from the register. Ten lunars will do. Chop chop!” She folded her legs atop the counter, awaiting a response.

The stallion stared at her for a moment, scratching the back of his neck in a clear sign of indecision. “Er…”

“Well? What are you waiting for?” She huffed irritably. “Do you want me to report you to my father again?”

“N-no, Miss Diamond,” he stammered. “It’s just that… he, um, Mister Rich doesn’t want you pulling money out of the register anymore.”

“Ugh. This again.” She dropped to all fours. “Fine, I’ll talk to him myself. Where is he?”

“He… should be in the back offices.”

“Terrific. Just what I wanted to deal with today.”

With a huff, Diamond returned to me.

“Daddy’s being difficult again. I’m gonna go try and talk some sense into him. Wait here and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Without waiting for my response, she twirled around and made a beeline towards the rear end of the store. Typical Diamond, I thought absentmindedly as I began wandering the isles of the store in search of a means to entertain myself.

In short order, I found myself utterly bored, aimlessly wandering between endless racks of flashy clothing, glass displays of sparkling jewelry, and platforms laden with bottles of perfume. I wrinkled my nose as the noxious odors permeated my surroundings. It reeked of mother’s charity formals.

Finding an empty bench in the next department over, I sat down to clear my sinuses of the fumes. Diamond was still nowhere in sight. Honestly, how long did it take for her to squeeze a few bits out of the old stallion?

My gaze wandered over to the magazine stand beside me. Trashy tabloids, teen heartthrobs, celebrity gossip; the usual inane rubbish…

Hmm? What was this?

My eyes fixated on a magazine, its cover adorned with a photo of the Wonderbolts amid an intricate aerial maneuver, magnificent streaks of light and color trailing from their forms. Slowly I stretched out a hoof—

“Eyyyy, check this out!”

Suddenly, the magazine was whisked off the stand by a beige aura of magic.

Oh, for Sun’s sake, what manner of thuggish—

Irritated, I shot my gaze up at the offender… and realized that the putrid yellow colt who had taken the magazine was none other than my gangly classmate, Snails.

“Hey Snips, look!” the unicorn said excitedly as he raced up to a plump little green colt. “The new AeroRadical is out!”

“That’s not what we’re here for,” grumbled his squat little friend. “C’mon, let’s go look at the new Hoofboxes.”

My ear twitched as I caught mention of the familiar word. A little filly in a beige trench coat trotted through my memories.

“Fiiiine,” groaned Snails. He unceremoniously dropped the magazine on a nearby product stand and followed after Snips.

With a quick glance around, I left my seat and began tailing the two colts through the store as they scrambled towards the west end, where several stratoscreens lined the wall, flashing non-stop advertisements.

“Over here!” shouted Snips, pointing at several black boxes underneath one of the screens. Skulking behind one of the shelves, I immediately recognized them as the same box Sweetie Belle had been carrying earlier today.

“Awesome! Looks like they still have plenty,” said Snails excitedly. “Are these the brand new ones?”

“Heck yes, just came out!” Snips said with an excited grin.

“Are we both getting one?”

“Obviously. How else are we gonna play Eternity when we’re not hanging out together?”

Ah, that explained it. It was one of those video game machines. How wretched.

I almost dared a smidgen of sympathy for the colts, who were easily the two least attractive of all my schoolmates—no filly in her right mind wanted to be anywhere within ten feet of them. To say nothing of the fact that they had no redeeming qualities that could make them of any use to anyone.

Too unsightly for breeding, too scrawny for labor, too cowardly for war. What use were these colts to anyone? It’s as if they were destined for a life of lonely mediocrity.

No surprise that they would seek the self-gratifying solace of a video game.

I had heard stories of what happened to colts who played video games. They slowly lost themselves in these fake worlds, addicted to the sense of worth that was bestowed upon them, addicted to seeking success via the eternal pursuit of “points” and “high scores”, addicted despite the fact that none of it was real.

That was, perhaps, the greatest irony of it all: the more they lost themselves in these games, the more lost they would become to society. After all, a male that was playing a video game was a male that wasn’t breeding, laboring, or defending their homeland.

Yet, how could they not be drawn to it? They were so cursed by their worthlessness that they were left with no other choice but to succumb to it wholly, to seek shelter in the only place where they could feel like anything they did had meaning.

It was a place for failures to play at triumph.

I stared at these two colts with newfound pity.

They would never be anything like me, I was a lady, after all. I commanded respect and responsibility. I was set to inherit the Silver fortune.

I would become someone. And they would forever be nothing.

“How much is it though?” came the dopey warble of Snails’ voice, breaking me from my musing.

“Not sure.” Snips turned one of the boxes around. “Lemme see if it’s on the… holy horseapples!” He leapt backwards in shock. “Two thousand?!”

“Seriously?!” said Snails incredulously. “How the hay are we supposed to afford that?!”

Oh, you pitiable little peasants. Twenty solars was nothing for the likes of my family.

…or Sweetie Belle’s, apparently.

Hmm.

As the squabbling colts began counting whatever bits they had between them, I trotted away towards the front of the store.

All things considered, twenty solars was nothing to scoff at, and I sincerely doubted Sweetie Belle had much money to go around. For a filly like her to spend that much on a video game machine…

If there were anything more pitiable than a man who played video games, it was a mare that did the same. After all, we were ladies. It was our charge to lead, to ensure the financial security of our families, to uphold the responsibilities and opportunities granted to us as pioneers and politicians and businessmares.

Of all ponykind, we were the ones destined for greatness.

Except for the precious few failures among us that would never achieve it.

Oh, Sweetie Belle. I knew you were pathetic, but to be such a catastrophe that you must submerge yourself in the world of failed men?

What a tragic fate.

The front counter came into view, and still Diamond was nowhere in sight. Once again, the colt behind the register was deeply engorged in his comic book.

I gave the scrawny stallion a quick once-over. His face was pockmarked with pimples, and he sported a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes nearly twofold. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than myself.

Definitely not that high on the mating totem pole. I’d be willing to bet a lunar that this stallion was one of those video game players as well.

With nothing better to do, I stepped forward.

“Excuse me?” I said, rapping lightly on the counter.

“Hmm?” He peered over his comic book. “Oh, hey there, little filly. Can I help you find something?”

‘Little filly?’ I was nearly thirteen winters! Of course, I said nothing as I graced him with a polite smile.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions regarding those, er, ‘Hoofbox’ machines you have on display?”

“Oh boy, could I!” he exclaimed, nearly dropping his comic in his excitement, though a slight blush crept between his pimples as he regained his posture. “I mean, er, sure, what did you need to know?”

“I was just curious… they’re rather expensive, no? Surely they’re not so amazing as to be worth that much?”

"You mean you don't know?!" His eyes widened, so disbelieving of my ignorance that I might as well have admitted to being a Gryphosi spy. “Oh mare, let me tell you! They’re super powerful, the graphics are amazing, and it plays all the latest games. If you have a nice stratoscreen, it can feel like you’re actually there!”

His face lit up dreamily as he spoke, as if the Stars themselves had sought to bequeath him an unspeakably gorgeous new fillyfriend.

Hah. As if.

“That sounds… remarkable,” I said in mock awe.

“That’s not even the best part!” he grinned. “The Hoofbox is the first one that lets you play video games with other ponies all over the world!”

That was certainly interesting. “I assume they work over the Stratonet?”

“That’s right!” he nodded empathically.

“Fascinating…”

“Heh, no kidding!” He leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t realize so many fillies like you were into video games! Another one came in with her older sister about an hour ago to buy one!”

And opportunity struck. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! Strange new world, huh?”

Strange new world indeed.

I leaned forward conspiratorially. “Perchance, was it Sweetie Belle?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Wait, how’d you know? She said she hasn’t told anyone else that she plays video games.”

Oh, how your secrets amused me, little Crusader.

“Posh. We’re friends, obviously,” I lied dismissively with a wave of my hoof. “She mentioned that she might be getting one soon.”

“Ah, I see.”

A sudden thought came to my mind. Now that I knew Sweetie Belle’s curious little secret, I couldn’t help the grin that overcame my expression as I realized the many possibilities that lay before me. I glanced around quickly to ensure that Diamond wasn’t within earshot, then leaned closer to the stallion.

“In fact, I was thinking about getting one so that I may join her. You know, just as a little surprise. After all, I’ve been wondering what all the fuss has been about with these… video games.”

“Really? I bet she’d like that.”

“Yes, but… I’m afraid she didn’t inform me which game she was getting.”

“Oh, it just came out, it’s called Eternity,” he said, pointing to a small display on the counter, where several plastic game cases were propped up for display. The one in question pictured several armored soldiers, each wielding a large firearm of some sort, or generating some kind of strange magic with their hooves.

This was entirely too nerdy for me.

…But I couldn’t possibly pass up a chance to torment a Crusader within the confines of her own escapism.

“Do you deliver?” I asked the stallion. “Discreetly?”

“Yep! If you gift-wrap it.”

With a flourish, I dropped two dozen golden coins upon the countertop. “The Silver Estate. Tonight, if you would.”

A grin overcame his face. “Absolutely.”

– — E N D — – -

Author's Note

Merry Christmas. A tiny tidbit into the past of our second POV.

No editing done this time. Sorry Zaid and Sharpie. I wanted to get this out before the clock struck twelve. As a result it might be shit and yeah I'm probably going to regret having published this without an editing phase uh fuck what am I doing FML.

Sorry this has taken such a long time. These last few months have been a very trying part of my life.

~~As if that hasn't been the death knell of Fimfic writer aplenty.~~

7. Shadow Price

“Before grace, subsistence.
Before nobility, survival.”
—Spirit of the Vulture

My hoofsteps echoed as I cantered upon the cobblestone roads of Ponyville. Ponies stared as I sped past them, their attentions drawn by the din of my harried passage, but for once I barely paid them any heed—there were far more pressing matters to worry about.

Of all the schemes she could have possibly committed to, it had to be the one that might divulge my secrets.

As I weaved my way between ponies milling about in the marketplace, the temptation to simply shove everypony aside was only barely kept in check by a distant part of my consciousness, shrieking at me to maintain a semblance of decorum.

After all, I had an image to uphold. I shan’t get careless.

I gritted my teeth as years of social training threatened to burst under the pressure of the panicked thoughts churning within my mind. Dozens of horrible outcomes flitted through my conscience, each worse than the one before.

Shadow Song’s identity might be compromised.

The support of my only friend could evaporate.

I could lose the respect of my family.

I may damage the connections I’ve made in service to my future.

As I shimmied through a queue in front of a market stall, an ache suddenly flashed through my torso. I winced, reminded of the blow I had sustained earlier today.

Sweetie Belle, you foalish girl. Had you simply controlled your impulses…

I slowed to a more careful trot, being cautious not to further stress my injury. The momentary pain quickly subsided.

Best I heeded my own advice—there was little to be gained from incapacitating myself before I could even make it there.

Up until now, I had mostly allowed pure habit to guide my passage. As I reduced my pace, I began to take note of my immediate surroundings, realizing that I had already made it out of the market and into the more tranquil streets of the Diamond District. A great deal fewer ponies generally occupied the wider walkways of Ponyville’s most affluent neighborhoods.

Good. I was getting close, and there wouldn’t be much hoof-traffic from here on out.

The realization calmed my nerves somewhat, reducing my mind’s panicked torrent of uncertainties to a more manageable trickle and allowing me to ruminate on my circumstances with more clarity. I needed to calm yourself. Rethink my situation.

The reporter’s involvement had been completely unexpected. I had been very cautious in revealing as few details as possible to the reporter during my interview, so it was unlikely that anything might compromise Shadow’s real identity. But he was a wild-card—I had no idea what role he might play, or how much it could impact me.

He was involved. There was no controlling that. The shot had been fired, and the bullet’s trajectory was set.

But if I knew where that bullet was going, I could situate myself to avoid it.

I grinned at the realization. I was in a position to gain valuable information, and steel myself for the future. This was my chance to ensure that I could eradicate any possibility of suspicion being directed upon me.

And if anything threatened my identity, I could reverse it.

I could do this. I was a master wordsmith. All I needed was to tell them what they wanted to hear. Make them think I was on their side.

All it took was the right words at the right time. All it took was a silver tongue.

After all, I held the spoon that fed them.

I turned to gaze upon my cutie mark, a reminder of my talents.

Reassured, I turned forward with a smile, and found that the much-needed boost to my confidence had come just in time. Before me rose a large iron-wrought gate, intricately-welded and accented with golden flourishes. Despite my utter familiarity with the sight, I couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated, knowing the trial that awaited me beyond those bars.

But time was of the essence. I shan't tarry.

I put a hoof to the gate and applied a slight pressure. The telltale chime of a magical aura sounded from the other side as my identity was recognized, and the gate slid open slowly to allow me passage.

Without further hesitation, I strode briskly into the ornately decorated gardens of the compound. As I trotted through, my senses were overwhelmed by the lavishness of my surroundings—immaculately-maintained lawns, endless swirling rainbows of meticulously-arranged flora, stoic marble busts of revered ancestors, babbling ponds teeming with golden fish. All of this was merely accompaniment to the center attraction: a large palatial estate, styled by Canterlot’s finest unicorn artisans to resemble the City’s grandiose architecture.

The entire scene was equal parts beautiful and imposing, a testament to the power of the family that resided within. The knowledge that I would be facing that power head-on did little to assuage my reservations.

Nonetheless, I gathered my resolve and strode with intent towards the front doors… which opened just then to reveal a single diminutive figure emerging at its base, no doubt notified of my arrival by the magic that secured the front gate. While her flowing purple mane obscured much of her visage, she still fixed me with the icy-blue gaze of her one free eye as I approached.

She did not look happy.

“Silver Spoon,” said my best friend, in a cold tone that confirmed my observation.

“Good evening, Diamond Tiara,” I responded evenly, straightening my glasses with a hoof and freeing my silver braid from the pearl necklace on my neck.

“You’re late,” the filly replied with a biting tone, brushing a stray lock of her purple mane from out of her eyes. “What took you? It’s been almost an hour.”

“Your summons caught me indisposed,” I replied smoothly, stopping in front of her with a prepared lie. “Nature’s call cannot be ignored, after all.” Diamond quirked an eyebrow. “And I’m still rather sore from the hit I took from Sweetie Belle this afternoon. It slowed me down.”

“Whatever,” she said, waving a hoof dismissively and turning inside. “Come on, the reporter’s already here.”

Yes, Diamond, despite my injury, I was quite alright. Your concern was appreciated, as always.

“Forgive me, but your summons were rather vague,” I said, putting a hoof on her retreating figure and causing her to shoot me a scowl. “If I may ask, what exactly is going on?”

“Just come inside,” she said impatiently, turning back around with a huff. “You’re smart, you can work it out as we go along.”

I felt my eye twitch in frustration, but conceded. Time was of the essence, after all.

Brooking no further argument, I silently trailed her inside as she strode swiftly past the velvet and oaken furnishings of the grandiose entrance hall, making a beeline to an archway on our immediate left, from which several soft voices emerged.

As we emerged into the brightly-lit sitting room, I noticed that several figures were already seated in front of the fireplace, which cracked heartily in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere that befell the room’s current inhabitants. Diamond’s parents occupied the velvet couch on the other side of the coffee table, and both appeared quite engaged in a rather heated conversation with a frowning blue stallion in the armchair at the end.

This must've been Mister Noteworthy. I studied the stallion as we approached the table. He didn’t look very pleased to be here…

Mister Filthy Rich quirked an eyebrow at us as we settled into the armchair opposite the reporter, but Missus Proper Place seemed to barely even notice our presence, her attention fixed solely on the reporter.

“And why, might I ask, do you refuse my offer?” Missus Proper asked viciously, her tone crawling with barely-restrained poison.

“Because it’s wrong,” Mister Noteworthy replied as if the answer were completely obvious. “It’s defamation. It goes against the very code of ethics I swore to uphold when I entered this profession. I couldn’t do this for you, no matter how much you tried to butter me up.”

Oh dear. He was resisting.

I couldn’t help but admire the stallion for being so stalwart despite the intimidating aura that seemed to emanate from the mare’s very form. Alas, I knew that his valor would be misplaced. If there was anything to know of Diamond’s mother, it was that she was not to be trifled with, and that she always found a way to get what she wanted.

I wondered how long he would last.

“But it is the truth,” she replied dismissively. “The filly is a danger to everypony around her. With this, at the very least, the world would be warned of her true colors.”

“I disagree,” he said, mustering his confidence. “I’ve worked with her older sister before, and both mares have been nothing but pleasant on every occasion that I’ve come in contact with them, Miss Belle included.”

“So then why did she attack my daughter at school today?” Missus Proper said coldly, waving a hoof towards Diamond. “Surely there must have been some indication of her behavior.”

“She was perfectly cordial during my interviews earlier this week,” he replied with a shrug. “Something must have set her off.”

Missus Proper bristled at that remark. “Do you mean to imply that my daughter was at fault?”

Mister Noteworthy blanched. “N-no ma’am. Anything could have caused that behavior. I’m sorry for your daughter’s predicament, but I honestly couldn’t tell you what caused Miss Belle to do what she did.”

“I’ve already told you what the cause is,” Missus Proper said irritably. “Those violent video games she wastes all her time playing—they’re obviously brainwashing the girl into such brutish behavior. I’d almost pity her if it wasn’t something she partook in willingly.”

“It’s pure conjecture,” countered the reporter. “I’ve already done my research. Most studies agree that there is no correlation between video games and violent behaviors over the long-term. The only thing they create is short-term aggression, which is common in any competitive game or sport—”

“There, right there,” she interrupted. “Use that.”

“Excuse me?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Aggression,” she echoed back to him. “Perhaps she was irresponsibly playing video games prior to her arrival at school. That would certainly explain both the incident in the alleyway this morning, and the fight that followed.”

“It’s short-term,” he clarified irritably. “It lasts as long as the user is engaged in the activity, and is usually only directed towards her opponents, or anypony who might interrupt the game.”

“The specifics are pure poppycock to me,” she said dismissively, “and likely to anypony else who might read your article. What I said is more than enough to go on. Use it.”

“Missus Proper Place, I’m sorry, but I’ve already told you,” he said angrily, standing up. “I absolutely refuse to be a part of this. I don’t care how much you pay me, but I am not going to ruin the life of a filly who just got her cutie mark in service of your petty revenge.”

“You will,” she retorted, “or I will ruin yours.”

With a flourish, she slammed a manila folder on the coffee table, causing everypony to jump at the noise and direct their attention to the photos and documents that had slid out upon impact.

That... was almost cinematically cliché.

“Do you remember last weekend?” she asked him with a devilish smirk. “I wonder what the good people of Ponyville would think if I informed them that it had been, ah… non-consensual?”

I turned incredulously to Diamond, only to find that she wore a grin that matched her mother’s. The effect on the reporter was immediate; it took only seconds for the blood to drain from his face as he beheld the folder’s contents. “You couldn’t possibly—”

“‘How scandalous!’” she cried, waving a hoof dramatically. “‘Forcing yourself upon a poor, defenseless mare like that! And a married mare, to boot! Oh, how could you be so bestial, so vile!’”

He shuddered, but glared up at her. “Her consent matters, not yours! Besides, she told me she wasn’t married! How would you even know—”

“You fool,” she spat, before bunching up her hair with a hoof. “That mare was me.”

…Oh my Stars.

A heavy silence befell the room as we processed this revelation. Barely comprehending what I had heard, I stood up slightly in my seat to examine the photos more closely, but there was a sudden sharp intake of breath to my right. Without warning my view was immediately obscured by the body of Mister Rich, who had swiftly moved to stand in front of us.

“Father!” Diamond shouted indignantly to the stallion that had blocked us. “I want to see!”

“No, Diamond,” he grunted, slamming a hoof above our heads upon the back of the armchair and locking us in place. “Believe me… you do not.” He flashed a look at me, as if daring me to defy him as well. I stared into his gaze, which, while commandingly hard-edged, also held a hint of… profound sadness.

I kept my face carefully neutral, but I made no move to push past him. It was obvious that I was clearly not meant to witness this, and any disagreeable act put me at risk of being ousted from this event.

Diamond, on the other hand, growled in response, but Mister Rich ignored her completely, instead turning towards his wife. “Proper… you didn’t…”

“I did, Richie,” she said evenly, a soft smile gracing her visage.

“How… how could you do this to us, to me—”

“I do only what is necessary for this family.”

“This?” He waved at the photos. “This is necessary for our family?!”

“Of course it is necessary,” she snorted derisively. “It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t interfered in the Headmaster’s office today!”

“This has nothing to do with what happened in the Headmaster’s office!” he spat bitterly. “This… I can’t believe you. What made you think this would help us?”

“Oh, it’s just something I wanted to keep tucked away, in case of a rainy day,” she explained, casually examining a hoof with a bored expression. “But I didn’t realize how quickly it would pay off! Of course, it wouldn’t be necessary if you hadn’t made such a cowardly mistake.”

“Mistake?! I was doing what I had to—”

“My actions were perfectly sufficient, thank you very much—”

“—in order to protect Diamond from you,” he snarled with finality, causing her eyes to widen. “Time and again, I have beseeched both of you to restrain yourselves, but it is as if neither of you know your limits! These conflicts escalate far beyond the realm of sanity.”

I glanced at Diamond… who had fallen silent. For once, I couldn’t read the expression on her face.

Mister Rich’s expression turned pleading. “Please, Proper. I implore you. This?” He waved a hoof at the photos on the table. “This is too far. If this goes on as it has, you will send the roof of this household crashing upon our heads. You cannot truly believe that—”

“Richie, dear,” she interrupted, her voice a sweetly acidic tone that sent shivers up my spine, “you don’t even know the half of it. This is nothing compared to the other things I’ve done in service to our family.”

Mister Rich froze at that, several emotions adorning themselves upon his expression, each more horrified than the last.

“I love you more than you know,” she said with a cold smile, trotting slowly up to him, “which is why it hurts so very, very much when I find my integrity challenged. I would be utterly heartbroken to hear that you no longer had faith in my ability to lead this household, or to do what is best for our little Diamond.” She extended a hoof, lightly caressing his chin. “Heartbroken, and so very disappointed.”

Without another word, she turned around, brushing his face with her tail. His expression contorted into a scowl as she did so, but he made no move to stop her as she bore down on the reporter, who had been watching the short exchange with a look of pure terror.

“Allow me to amend my previous offer,” she explained matter-of-factly, sounding to all Equestria as if she were merely reading off a grocery list. “You write that article, so that the world may know the true nature of that disgusting little wretch. In exchange, I shall reimburse you handsomely, as promised. Furthermore, I shall ensure that this rather, ah,” she waved to the contents of the manila folder, “sordid affair between us remains safely buried.”

She fluttered her eyelashes as her face came within inches of his, her countenance impressing the power she wielded with effortless ease. “Have I made myself clear?”

I winced as the mare brought her full might to bear against this unsuspecting stallion, the unbridled power of the mare that commanded the Diamond Estate.

Reminder to self: never, ever attract the ire of Proper Place.

The reporter, too far gone for my silent advice to save him, merely gulped as he sputtered his answer. “C-crystal,” he replied shakily, completely stripped of his former confidence.

“Lovely!” she exclaimed merrily, turning swiftly to the coffee table. “I’m ever so glad we could come to an understanding. In fact, I’ll even give you this—” she held up the re-sealed packet with a cheerful grin “—as thanks for a job well done. It’ll be like one of those theme park photos! A souvenir for… a ride worth remembering.”

His horrified expression clearly communicated his desire to do anything but.

With that, Mister Rich finally moved out of the way, allowing us full view of the scene that lay before us. Diamond reclined back into the cushions with a huff, while I stayed completely silent.

Mister Rich did not return to his seat, however. He gave his wife a strained look, before turning his gaze upon me.

“I’m not sure why you’re here, Silver,” he said in a quiet voice carefully devoid of emotion, “but I believe it is time for you to head home.”

Oh dear.

I quickly stifled the sudden burst of panic that shot through my mind. I couldn't afford to miss this.

“I apologize, Mister Rich,” I replied with a polite bow of my head. “I am here on the invitation of Diamond Tiara.”

“She did not ask me for permission,” he stated flatly. “And, quite frankly, these are family matters that you shouldn’t be—”

“I was the one who allowed Diamond to do so,” interrupted Missus Proper. “Silver Spoon was a witness to both events this morning, and her testimony will be most useful to us.”

Mister Rich opened his mouth to argue, but hesitated as a conflicted expression overcame his face, clearly unable to decide what to say or do in light of his wife’s earlier revelation. Silently, I marveled at how the stallion could keep his cool despite all that had transpired.

Eventually, his indecision won out. Without another word, he turned around and strode out of the room. I sighed in relief.

Thank the Stars. Disaster averted.

“Excellent.” She clapped her hooves together. “With that out of the way, let’s move on to details.” She pulled up a newspaper, which had been sitting beside her on the couch. “Now, you said that there are… six members in this little organization of hers?”

“Er… yes,” he said in a shaky attempt to recover from his stunned silence.

“And this… ‘Dovetail’,” she uttered the name in disgust, “is Miss Belle herself.”

“That is… correct.”

“Who is the gryphon?”

“That would be… Miss Freya Stormtalon,” he replied.

“Oh please,” she huffed. “We need not dignify those hawkish savages with an honorific. What do you know of her?”

“Nothing much,” he explained. “She excused herself before I could begin the interview, saying she had… sentry duty?”

“Sentry duty?” Madame Proper tapped a hoof to her chin. “So… she’s a soldier?”

“That’s perfect!” exclaimed Diamond, speaking for the first time that evening. “She’s hanging out with the bad guys.”

A wide grin broke out on the mare’s face. “Oh yes. Fraternizing with the enemy! Marvelous, absolutely use that. Quickly, anything else of note?”

“Er, the only other three present for the interview besides Miss Belle herself were Mash, Zaid, and Shadow. Stranger also departed.”

“What do you know of them?”

“Nothing of Stranger, aside from the fact that she appeared to be a unicorn. Zaid is apparently a horse from Saddle Arabia, a stallion whose actual name was something like ‘Zaeed’.”

“A stallion? Hm.” Madame Proper thought again. “They were all older than Sweetie Belle?”

“At least twice her age,” he explained, “with the exception of Button Mash, a local colt and one of Sweetie Belle’s classmates.”

“Ignore him, nothing useful there. But definitely play on the fact that she’s spending time with strange adults, and filthy Saddle Arabian mopheads to boot.”

I winced inwardly at the racial slur, as did Noteworthy. “Um…”

“What?” she glared at him.

“I… don’t think that kind of language would fly with my editors,” he noted sheepishly.

“Worry not, I’ll deal with that. Continue.”

How many strings could she pull…?

Oh. Wait. This was Proper Place we were talking about here. I shan’t bother wondering.

“Well, the last pony of note is Shadow Song.”

I felt my eye twitch, but otherwise maintained a zen-like state of calm. No need to draw attention to myself.

“And?” she asked him, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, the most he revealed was that he lived within the Equestrian Heartland.”

“So… he could mean Canterlot, Cloudsdale, or Ponyville.” She huffed in annoyance. “That’s not very helpful.”

They weren't on my scent yet.

“Well, um, he was open to being interviewed, but refused to disclose too many details about himself or his life.”

“Then what in Equestria was the point?”

“I asked him of his motives for playing on the same team as Miss Belle, and he said she was an unstoppable force on the battlefield, and a capable commander with a keen tactical mind.”

“Hm. A stallion with military experience, perhaps?” There was a moment of silent thought. “What did you say his race was?”

“I didn’t. He’s an umbra.”

She raised a brow. “Pardon?”

“A pony of the night. He, er, had bat wings.”

“Well then! If he has military experience, does this mean he could be one of Princess Luna’s Royal Guard? Based out of Canterlot, perhaps?”

“Perhaps…”

That couldn’t possibly be further from the truth.

I couldn’t help feeling a certain kind of morbid joy watching the mental gymnastics that were playing out before me. Without even knowing that they’d be after me, I had already set them on a wild goose chase.

“Well, it’s worth mentioning that their in-game appearances don’t necessarily match up with who they are in real life,” Mister Noteworthy explained. “For example, Sweetie Belle’s character Dovetail is a white-coated terran—er, sorry, earth pony—with a messy red mane streaked with yellow, and she’s a bit taller than the filly is in real life. I can’t verify the accuracy of the other members of her team—it’s entirely possible that they aren’t anything like they appear.”

“So they could all be lying about themselves?”

“That’s entirely possible, yes,” the reporter confirmed. “Though they did often refer to Sweetie and Button using their actual names, and we know their identities to be real, at least.”

“Hmph. Well, the public doesn’t need to know how little we know. Perhaps we could make up some facts?”

“Er, I’d advise against that,” he replied. “Anything blatantly false would be obvious and damage the article’s credibility.”

“And we couldn’t just say that all of them are mysterious adults preying on children? Stars, perhaps this Shadow Song is some kind of sexual predator local to the area.”

I snorted, then clapped my hooves to my muzzle as I realized that all eyes had turned to me.

“Er, my apologies,” I said sheepishly.

“Is something funny?” Madame Proper asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

“I thought it would be entertaining if that were the truth,” I lied smoothly. “It wouldn’t speak highly of Sweetie’s ability to make safe decisions. Or smart ones.”

The mare’s eyes widened. “Clever filly. I knew there was a reason why I had Diamond invite you.”

I smiled. “You flatter me, Madame Proper,” I said with a bowed head.

“Definitely something worth using,” Madame Proper said to the reporter. “The girl is playing with fire—she has no idea what kind of shady characters these ponies might actually be in real life.”

“Perhaps, but I’d try to keep that line of thinking to a minimum,” he reasoned. “If we start questioning the unknowns too heavily, then the already-established identities might break down, like that of the gryphon soldier.”

“And that is entirely your responsibility,” said the mare lazily. “This is your job, after all. Simply do it right.”

“Er, yes. Of course.”

“Hmm. That being said, I don’t feel like this is enough. Would you be able to get more?”

“More… information?”

“Yes. Perhaps a repeat interview? Or maybe even tail the girl for a few days, see what she gets up to. Whatever it takes.”

“Er… I suppose I could…”

“In fact, try focusing on this Shadow Song character. He seems especially suspicious, and if he’s actually in the Heartlands, perhaps even in Ponyville…”

Oh dear.

“I don’t think he is,” I said simply.

“And why is that?” asked the mare, curious of my interruption.

“Well, if he’s a member of Luna’s Guard, then he’s likely stationed in Canterlot,” I reasoned.

“But you heard the reporter yourself. He could be anypony.”

Think. Think quickly.

“In that case, we can’t really be sure of anything he says, not even where he lives,” I reasoned. “If he’s trying to conceal his identity, I doubt he’d choose to play as an umbra if he was one in real life; that would make it too easy to identify him, since umbra aren’t exactly common in Equestria."

“That’s true. He may not live in the Heartlands, after all,” she pondered, and I nodded my head in agreement. “He may not even be a stallion, for all we know.”

…Oh dear.

”Hah!” chuckled Diamond. “As if any mare would want to be a stallion.”

“A fair point,” agreed her mother, much to Mister Noteworthy’s obvious chagrin, and my less-obvious relief.

Bravo, Diamond Tiara. Forever shall you be blissfully unaware that, on this day, you unwittingly snatched your best friend from the jaws of peril.

“I suppose that simply means it would be far too much effort to actually figure out his identity based on what we already know. Which I imagine is the case for this ‘Stranger’, as well.”

“I agree. She was completely absent from the interview, so I know nothing about her.”

Even I knew nothing about her. And I spoke to her on a near-daily basis.

Absentmindedly, I began pondering the identity of the mysterious unicorn, wondering what secrets lie on the other side of that stratoscreen.

Perhaps she was a distant pony from a far-flung land.

…Or perhaps she was somepony I know.

I turned slowly to my right, my eyes falling upon the filly that I called my best friend, who was currently watching the exchange with muted interest.

Hah. As if.

A soft snort emerged from my muzzle, which caused Diamond to meet my gaze with a quizzical expression. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said with a small smile. “Just a funny thought, that’s all.”

“Well then,” came the voice of Missus Proper, recalling our attention once again. “I suppose what we know will simply have to do.” She turned to us. “Girls, is there anything you two would like to add?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Diamond, sitting forward. “Throw in the word ‘gaymare’. It’ll really drive the point in.”

“…Gay-mare?”

“It’s what she is,” Diamond explained. “Like, gamer, and mare, combined. Except it sounds like ‘gay-mare’, so it’s bad.”

Very mature.

“Er… how would I integrate it into the article?” asked Mister Noteworthy.

“I dunno, isn’t that your job?” she scoffed.

Helpful as always, Diamond. Please, allow me.

“Perchance it would work best as part of the title?” I suggested. “Something provocative. Something that preys on fears of the unknown or unfamiliar. ‘Dangerous Gaymares’, perhaps?”

“Or maybe, ‘The Gaymare Among Us’,” suggested the reporter.

“Ooh, I like it,” said Diamond with a grin.

“Magnificent ideas, girls,” said Missus Proper with an approving nod. “Anything else?”

“Nah, aside from the junk I told you about how she beat us up and stuff, that’s pretty much it,” said Diamond with a shrug.

“Very well.” Missus Proper turned to the reporter. “Do you think this is enough material?”

“Hmm.” He began shuffling through his notes, chewing his lip in thought. “Well, if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” Missus Proper’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And why, pray tell, is that?”

“Err,” he flinched slightly at her gaze, and his mouth hung open slightly as he struggled to formulate the words under her sharp gaze. “Well… forgive me for saying so, but as of right now, most of what I have is conjecture, sprinkled with hyperbole. There are lots of very bold, very strong statements regarding the nature of a filly that is already very well-known by the people of Ponyville.”

Diamond Tiara snorted. “Isn’t that the point of this? To make them not love her.”

Oh Diamond, were it so easy.

“Err… eheh, well, it’s not quite that simple,” the reporter offered nervously.

“But it is,” growled Miss Proper, leaning towards him. “If you simply do your job, then it shouldn’t matter.”

As the reporter wilted under her gaze, I couldn’t help but eye Missus Proper curiously. Surely somepony such as her could recognize the validity of his point?

I cleared my throat.

“All things considered, I see where Mister Noteworthy is coming from,” I elaborated carefully as all eyes turned to me once again. “Unpleasant as it is to admit, Sweetie Belle is rather well-liked around Ponyville. It’s enough that most of the ponies in this backwater have already come to their own conclusions about her, and I can’t honestly see those changing easily.”

“R-right,” Mister Noteworthy said with an unsteady nod, regaining some of his composure. “They might not be persuaded to agree with us without more evidence.”

“The violent altercation at the schoolhouse isn’t evidence enough?” shot Missus Proper. "That is a rather serious affair, after all."

“It's enough, but it needs reinforcement,” he clarified. “After all, has this ever really happened with Miss Belle before? Most ponies might assume it's a one-time thing."

"Then all the more reason to make it public! This is a side of her that nopony has ever seen before. All the more reason to let the world know!"

“Yes, I understand that!” he desperately placated her. “All I’m saying is that… well, it could use more. Some primary sources would go a long way towards strengthening the argument.”

“Primary sources?”

“Statements from any parties who were present.”

“A quote from myself or my daughter wouldn’t do the trick?”

“Er, that might actually… hurt the argument more than help it,” he explained cautiously. “Since you’re directly related to one of the parties involved, it might even be seen as biased.”

“It’s not biased if it’s the truth,” Diamond muttered irritably.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to Mister Noteworthy. “Perhaps talking to the school could help?”

“A quote from an authority figure at the schoolhouse would do wonders,” affirmed Mister Noteworthy with a nod, jotting down more notes into his notepad. “And anypony else, as well. Anypony that isn’t directly related to those involved with the event itself.”

“How about the Town Guard?” asked Diamond. “The Captain was the one who ended up pulling Sweetie Belle off me.”

“A statement from the Guard explaining what happened would go a very long way,” said Mister Noteworthy, scribbling in his notebook with renewed vigor.

Curious. How much of that was his natural enthusiasm for his career… and how much of that was Missus Proper’s coercion?

You were a frightening force of social control, Missus Proper.

“How about witnesses?” he asked me. “Did any other students see the fight?”

“It was during lunch,” I explained. “Pretty much the entire school was there, and some of the teachers.”

“Then perhaps statements from any of the colts or fillies who saw it happen?”

“What of their parents?” suggested Missus Proper with a grin. “Surely they would have an opinion regarding these events.”

“That could absolutely work. Some might be worried about sending their children to school with someone who has violent impulses.”

“Doesn’t father have PTO meetings every Saturday?” asked Diamond.

“He does,” Missus Proper nodded. “I could simply attend in his place tomorrow afternoon. No doubt today’s events will be a hot-button topic. Mister Noteworthy, will you be available tomorrow to take down some quotes?”

“It’s unlikely I’ll be allowed in the chambers, but I don’t think they would be opposed to me being outside to ask questions afterwards.”

“Excellent,” said Missus Proper. “So all that must be done is for me to impress upon the other parents how volatile and unpredictable that little filly truly is.”

“Except our teacher is a total stick-in-the-mud,” groused Diamond. “She’ll totally take Sweetie Belle’s side.”

“It matters not. As long as we’re able to convince the majority of the parents present that she is a danger to their foals, it should meet our needs quite adequately.” Missus Proper turned to the reporter. “Shall that do?”

“It should be,” he replied, standing up and replacing the fedora on his head.

“Well then!” she proclaimed with a nod, following suit. “I believe, for the time being, our work here is done. All that’s left is to set those plans into motion and get some results.”

“Of course,” replied Mister Noteworthy as the rest of us stood up. “And if you can think of anything further, simply let me know.”

“Hmm.” Missus Proper paused thoughtfully. “Actually, I do believe I have another idea.”

“Oh?” Mister Noteworthy quirked an eyebrow at her, and I couldn’t help but do the same.

They already had a solid plan. Honestly, it already seemed like overkill. What more could she possibly need at this point?

“Indeed, just some additional insurance,” she said with a nod, before flashing a look at us. “Though I believe it would be wiser for us to discuss it in a more private setting.”

“Aw c’mon, mother,” Diamond groaned.

“Sorry Tia, but some secrets must stay… secret, after all,” she declared with a devilish grin that left me completely mystified, though I did my best to not let it show. “And— I say, shouldn’t you be getting going, Silver? It would be unwise for you to return home too late.”

The pointed look she flashed in my direction made it clear that this was not a suggestion.

Considering everything I witnessed this evening, I should be grateful I didn’t wear out my welcome sooner.

“That is most true,” I said, bowing my head politely. “Probably best to return before the Sun sets, if it hasn’t already.”

“Indeed. But thank you ever so much for joining us this evening, Silver.” Her lips curved ever so slightly upwards. “Your contributions were quite elucidating.”

I returned her smile, and curtseyed once more for good measure. “You flatter me. It was certainly my pleasure.”

More than you could possibly know.

“Well then!” She cleared her throat softly, before stepping towards the archway, pausing only to wave a hoof. “Mister Noteworthy, if you would so kindly?”

“Of course.”

As they left, Diamond turned to me, beaming.

“This is way too exciting,” she said with a grin as she began trotting in the direction of the front door. “Finally, that brat will get what’s coming to her.”

“Indeed,” I remarked. “I’m very interested to see what he comes up with.”

“Yeah.” She pondered something for a moment, pausing as she opened the door leading outside. “I wonder what other lunatics that filly plays with though. Who do you think they are? Shadow and Stranger and stuff?”

Ah-ah-ah, couldn’t let you do that, Diamond.

“I’m certain they’re nothing special,” I lied effortlessly, trotting through the open door past her. “I mean, an umbra? A mysterious unicorn mare? Likely they’re just some boring breeders who want to make themselves seem interesting.”

“Hah! Probably,” agreed Diamond as I turned to face her.

Too easy.

“Still though, it’s kinda fun. It’s like we’re hiring an investigator to help solve a crime!”

I believe we were on the wrong side of the law for that analogy to work, Diamond.

“And I gotta say, you had some cool ideas too, Silver,” she smiled. “Mare, am I glad I invited you.”

I felt a little warmth fill my body at the sight of my friend’s smile.

But that was nothing compared to the sense of accomplishment I felt from successfully throwing her entire family off my trail.

“I assure you,” I said, putting a hoof on the filly’s shoulder. “I’m very glad you did too.”

– — E N D — – -

Author's Note

I wanted to apologize for the extremely long delay between last chapter and this one. My life hasn't been very kind to me over the holiday (or... really, over the last year), and that was on top of my own uncertainties about where I was taking this story. It's been a long time coming, but I'm glad to finally be at a point where I can say I'm ready to move forward.

As made obvious from the end of Chapter 6 and the Interlude, Arc 2 marks the beginning of a shift in the narrative structure of this story--we will be jumping between Silver Spoon's and Sweetie Belle's perspectives for the remainder of this arc. Hopefully this won't be too jarring. It's worth mentioning that this probably the only chapter that will be entirely from Silver's perspective.

If you haven't left feedback before, now is the time to start. With new ground means new storytelling techniques that I've never explored before, and I definitely want to know how well I'm doing. I absolutely relish your feedback. It's what drives me not to drink.

Also, I hang out in the #fimfiction chatroom. You should visit sometime.

Credits:
Thanks to my editors Sharp Quill and Zaid ValRoa.

Now playing:

"Light's Theme"
Composed by Hideki Taniguchi
Death Note Original Soundtrack, Volume 1

|♫| ɪɪ. The Path

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

“Welcome home, Lady Silver,” greeted the Head Servant with a sweeping bow.

“Thank you, Mirror Sheen,” I replied curtly, stepping through the gate into my family compound and taking in the sweet aromas of the well-groomed courtyard. As I strode towards the front door, my servant fell into trot beside me.

“I trust your evening went well?”

“It was certainly… eventful,” I responded, still puzzling over the day’s events. “There was an altercation at the opera house during this evening’s performance of La Trotska. Apparently some daft stagehand had confused a prop handgun with an actual loaded pistol, and it had gone off during the execution scene.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my. I trust nopony was hurt?”

“The actor was slain on the spot.”

“That is… most unfortunate.”

“I suppose it is.”

I had no strong feelings either way. I had attended primarily for the symphony—La Trotska was a rather intense production, one that only a suitably bombastic orchestral ensemble could do justice. After all, no bard or poet could truly hope to match the storytelling prowess of a legion of frantic woodwinds, sweeping strings, and powerful brass, all swelling and rising in harmony with each dramatic reveal and crescendoing in a tsunami of melodic emotion as the events on stage raced to their inevitable conclusion.

It was thus that, aside from the rather frustrating early curtain call, I cared little for the unexpected turn of events. Despite being an admittedly decent tenor, the stallion who had died had been wholly unremarkable. I had not even known his name.

Diamond Tiara, on the other hoof, had declared the actor’s grisly end an absolute riot. Which was fascinating—usually, my friend couldn’t care less for the symphony, and she had only gone for my benefit. Yet, because of the unexpected outcome, she had deemed this performance ‘well worth the price of admission,’ a proclamation she had made no attempt to conceal as we had departed the concert hall.

Always a rather morbid sense of humor about that one.

“Perhaps your evening fared better?” I asked the Servant, keen to redirect my train of thought elsewhere.

“The same as any other day, perhaps,” he replied cordially as we stepped up to the front porch of my home. “Though in the midst of preparations, I was greeted with a rather curious delivery this afternoon. A sizeable crate bearing the seal of Barnyard Bargains and addressed to you.”

Ah, right. The Hoofbox.

“I see. And where is the package now?”

“It awaits you in your room.”

“Very well. Thank you, Mirror Sheen.” I stepped through the door into the well-lit foyer of my family estate and made for the stairs.

“I don’t suppose you were… privy to the contents of this package?”

Oh dear.

I froze for a moment as I considered the implications behind his query, before slowly turning around to face him.

“I may have been,” I replied slowly. “I… don’t suppose this means you opened it?”

“Indeed, Lady Silver,” he answered genially, “to verify its contents and ensure their safety.”

I fixed him with a hard stare. “And? Do mother or sister know?”

He wore a placid smile. “I made certain only to check the package after Madame Sterling had departed with Lady Quicksilver to the spa.”

Of course. Reliable as always. How could I expect no less?

“Very good,” I responded, turning back around and ascending the stairs to my room. “Thank you for your discretion, Sheen.”

“It is my pleasure, as always, Lady Silver.”

Monolithic.

That was the word that initially came to mind when I first laid eyes upon the strange black appliance that now stood in my room, free from the trappings of its delivery packaging.

It was a large cube that stood at just about neck height, and perhaps half my length. Each surface was smooth, polished wood, painted with a rather sleek piano-black finish that was free of blemish or decoration. The only exception was the logo that adorned its face—a circle of frosted glass, with a hoofprint engraved into its center.

Though I couldn’t help but find the machine’s countenance to be rather imposing—for an inanimate object at least—it certainly wasn’t unattractive, by any stretch of the imagination. No doubt it would eventually be left forgotten in some corner of my room to serve as a glorified nightstand, or perhaps a display for my violin.

But not until I had my fun with it, of course.

A strange sense of giddiness rose up in my chest at the thought. I couldn’t help but take a moment to relish my own brilliance—the chance to invade Sweetie Belle’s little hidden sanctuary was too rich an opportunity to pass up, despite the inherent nerdiness of what I was about to do.

In short order, everything was set up. The device was magically tethered to the stratoscreen, the game itself had been placed atop the machine, and the controller was in my hooves.

All that remained was to turn it on.

Unsure of what to expect, I raised a tentative hoof to the logo. Upon contact, it lit up with an aura of white magic and rang melodically with a two-tone chime.

There was a momentary silence.

Then, gradually, a low hum began to fill the room, and my eyes widened in recognition.

It was the deep rumble of a contrabass, subdued and monotone—chills raced down my spine as the familiar warbling of a bow drawn across strings pervaded my senses, soon joined by regal brass horns and sorrowful strings that began weaving a harmonic narrative. Together, they spoke of a glorious civilization that had spanned the centuries, until a great tragedy ended everything—histories were swept mercilessly away by a great Darkness that consumed it all, aided by hubris and contempt.

But then, the violins rose brightly with hope. The entire ensemble bolstered with confidence, it rose as one to a glorious crescendo, foretelling a chance to restore that forgotten greatness, an opportunity to reclaim all that had been lost... a chance to undertake a journey of redemption, and a promise that it would not be taken alone.

Their message of hope delivered, the melodies dwindled to a gentle purr, and the majestic soundscape faded into silence. It was only then that I realized I had shut my eyes for the entire duration.

I opened them to a room filled with light, emanating from the bright projection upon the stratoscreen, its ethereal image resolving into a single, emboldened word.

E T E R N I T Y

I let out a breathless sigh. Admittedly, I was impressed. I hadn’t known what to expect when I turned on that device… but it most certainly wasn’t a soaring symphonic performance on par with that of Canterlot’s finest.

Then again, Canterlot’s finest could be contracted to do just about anything if one merely had the bits and the time. They did, after all, compose for several movies. Video games didn’t seem too much of a stretch.

But at least they had a certain degree of class.

My attention returned to the screen, and I noticed a glowing prompt had appeared beneath the title.

“PRESS START”

I looked at the controller—a sleek, roughly boomerang-shaped contraption, laden with an intimidating array of buttons and levers. Some of them were labeled, thankfully, but it still took a moment to figure out which doohickey was “Start”—which, upon tapping, caused the screen to go dark.

I squeezed the bridge of my nose with a sigh. This was going to be a bit more difficult than I had initially realized.

Within moments, the screen lit up once more, with a single question.

“WHAT ARE YOU?”

Within moments, a dizzying array of creatures faded into view on the stratoscreen, and my jaw dropped as I was beset with a diverse range of species, displayed in what could only be described as a biological gallery. Virtually every sapient creature that could be found within the bounds of Equestria was represented—all three pony races, zebra, gryphons, even diamond dogs. Occasionally the caricatures would fade between physical variations—sexes, coat colors, mane styles, feather markings, and more.

In a moment of awe, I realized that I could be anything I wanted to be.

…But this was getting absurd. I was taking this far too seriously. It wasn’t even something I planned to spend more than maybe a few days messing around with, and really only so that I could get into Sweetie Belle’s head.

Still though, my chosen persona would almost certainly have an effect on those who bore witness to it, something I could not ignore.

I stared up at the ceiling, pondering my choices.

My first thought was to design a character around myself. After all, I was the finest mare I knew. With a giggle I imagined the shocked look that would overcome Sweetie Belle’s face when she saw one of her worst nightmares frolicking about in her little video game world.

But no. That would make it too easy. She already knew me in real life—what was the point of playing the same antagonist when I could be a completely new one?

Perhaps I could be a graceful pegasus, free to soar the skies? I briefly entertained modeling a character after a Wonderbolt, one that carried Spitfire’s acrobatic grace, or perhaps even Soarin’s raw unbridled horsepower. It’d be an interesting perspective, and certainly an entertaining proxy with which to get close to the hapless Crusader.

Or perhaps I could even be a gryphon? There was nothing more frightening than the beastly visage of a sworn enemy of Equestria, descending upon its enemies to ravage and cannibalize its victims in a rage-fueled bloodlust. Ooh, yes. To really be the bad guy was an attractive proposition indeed. As I began to drift towards the gryphon model, I only briefly wondered what even drove the game’s creators to include such a barbaric species…

…until another creature caught my eye.

A dark-coated, blue-maned caricature stood off to the side, so dark it was nearly consumed by shadow. It had a lithe figure, otherworldly leathery wings, and glowing yellow eyes narrowed into a sharp gaze.

How curious.

Umbra were an extremely rare species of pony in Equestria—the highest concentration lived in the cold mountainous lands to the distant north of Canterlot, and the few within the Heartlands typically served as members of Princess Luna’s personal guard.

Having never actually met one of these unusual creatures in person, I couldn’t help but be enchanted by their mystique. There was something within the creature’s eyes—twin orbs expressing a silent, cunning malice—that resonated within me and carried a sense of devilish solidarity that I hadn’t expected to discover.

What a perfect envoy for my intent.

Without further hesitation, I selected the umbra.

I was then given a choice of gender—naturally, I selected male, because really, wasn’t it just completely humiliating to be slandered by a male? Poor Sweetie Belle didn’t know what was coming to her.

Soon, my character was fully configured to my taste: a fierce-looking umbra, sleek but imposingly tall. Satisfied, I confirmed its appearance.

The game immediately asked me to select a combat discipline. Such details honestly seemed very inconsequential, so I halfheartedly decided on “Warlock”, which meant my character was apparently skilled in “manipulating dark energies to his whim” or some such drivel.

Another prompt appeared before me, and I rolled my eyes—how many questions did this thing demand of me?

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

I suppose that was rather important. Enough to give me pause at least.

Using my real name would be unwise if I was hoping to interact with Sweetie Belle anonymously. But beyond that, thinking too hard about it seemed a waste of effort for what was almost certainly a trivial detail.

And yet… perhaps not. I prided myself on thoroughness—whenever I committed to a task, I spared no expense, monetary or otherwise. There was little sense in carrying out this endeavor if I didn’t at least seek to make it thematically appropriate. And at the end of the day, there was a certain allure to choosing a name that would be symbolic of my intentions.

Which… honestly, I hadn’t taken into consideration before. Why was I doing this?

I stared down at the controller at my hooves. Not once in my life could I ever have imagined such a thing even so much as fouling up the front porch of my estate, much less the sanctity of my own bedroom. And yet, here it was. An impulse purchase—not that those were particularly uncommon—so I could… what? Tease one of the Crusaders? I could easily do such a thing in real life, after all. Why was this any different?

I considered my relationship with the ragtag band of misfits. My interactions with them were most commonly fronted by Diamond Tiara, who bore the majority of the heavy lifting and behaved with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer… adorned with pulsing neon signage… and maybe set on fire.

I, on the other hoof, preferred leaving a more understated hoofprint. If ever I chose to sling a verbal abuse at the Crusaders, I refused to do anything less than cut deep. Why waste sentences on a sprawling diatribe when all one needed was a few well-placed words? I drew upon their insecurities to viciously open long-healed wounds, fill them with crippling self-doubt, and reignite fiery internal conflicts that tore the trio apart.

And that was just in public. Much of my time was spent composing schemes to manipulate other ponies into hating them, sometimes via gossip or rumor-spreading, other times by manipulating circumstances such that any of their foalish endeavors would inevitably end in humiliation and failure.

And, truly, there was little that was more gratifying than watching the Crusaders gradually buckle under the pressure of so much understated malice set in motion by my hooves. It was an entertaining exercise, and it let me flex my social muscles.

I, of course, shared all my ideas with Diamond, so that she could execute them in my stead. Her overstated ego made her a terrific, if rather blunt, implement for my machinations, and she didn’t even need encouragement to gaily take credit for my brilliance. This of course meant that she took most of the heat, whereas I could lie back in the shadows, content to watch the fruits of my labor blossom. Diamond thought herself the master. But truly, I was the composer and conductor, and she, merely an instrument.

...

And there it was.

With a smile, I reached for the controller—in moments, my newly-minted nom de guerre was emblazoned upon the screen.

Shadow Song had been born.

Author's Note

In case anyone doesn't know what the Hawkmoon looks like

I like birds.

8. The Messenger

“Our fate is not sealed.
With the proper will, and enough force,
it can be rewritten.”
—Death of Fate

S W E E T I E B E L L E

Some mornings, I’d wake up and just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I actually did have better things to do with my time than, well… lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

But if the past hour or so of lying practically comatose under the covers was any indication, the answer to that question was leaning heavily towards a resounding no.

I wasn’t allowed back at school for the rest of the week. I couldn’t go hang out with my friends, since that was exactly where they were right this moment. And I doubted anyone was online for me to game with—much as I loved Eternity, it wasn’t exactly fun playing alone.

To say nothing of the fact that the last several days had utterly exhausted me to the bone, of course.

But ignoring all that, when I got right down to it, I just didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t know whether it was out of laziness or boredom, and quite frankly I didn’t care. I could have sat in that bed for the rest of the day if I felt like it, picking out little shapes and objects from the stucco patterning in the ceiling for all I cared.

And, all things considered, I really felt like it.

My bladder, however, felt otherwise.

Ugh. Damn you, weak little mortal physiology. Damn you for interposing yourself between me and my lethargy.

With a heavy sigh, I threw the covers off my bed and hopped down to the floor. I didn’t even bother to glance in the mirror as I made my way to the door—not like my looks mattered much if I wasn’t going out anyways.

Heh, maybe I could even squeeze an expression of abject horror out of my sister. That’d be a great way to start off the morning.

Well, aside from the fact that I really didn’t want to see Rarity right now. She’d probably assail me with things to do the moment she knew I was awake.

And so, it was with muffled hoofsteps that I slipped out the door and stealthily made my way to the—

“Sweetie Belle, darling, is that you?”

…Horseapples.

“Uh, hey, sis,” I called from over the upstairs railing.

“Oh finally, you’re awake.” Rarity poked her head out from her imagination room just below. “Come be a dear and help me paohh my Stars, Sweetie Belle, did you even brush?!”

Well, at least I got that expression I was hoping for.

“Nope,” I replied nonchalantly.

“…Well do hurry and get yourself tidied up. I’m leaving to meet with Cirque du Poné in Manehattan tomorrow afternoon, and I could certainly use your help packing!”

“You know, I’d love to, buuuut…” I leaned my chin lazily on the railing, my forehooves dangling over the edge. “I was actually thinking about just kinda, well, relaxing. And not doing anything.”

“Oh, but that simply cannot do!” she chided with a good-natured hoof-wave. “If you’re going to be spending the rest of the week at home, you might as well keep yourself busy!”

“Sounds more like you’ll be the one keeping me busy,” I grumbled.

“Ah, now you’re getting it,” she replied with a roguish grin. “Ta for now!”

With that, she zipped back into her room, the door shutting behind her.

Somehow I got the feeling this day would last longer than I wanted it to.

S I L V E R S P O O N

It was a most curious thing, walking to school alone that morning.

Taking the path with Diamond Tiara had become an integral part of my daily routine. Often we would chat about everything under the sun—schoolwork, our respective family businesses, schemes for ruining the Crusaders’ day, or snide comments about the various passersby milling about on their morning commute.

Such as the gray mailmare who had swooped overhead just moments ago.

“Hey look, there goes that dope-eyed pegasus again,” Diamond would have likely said.

“Two lunars she’ll fly into that tree,” I whispered under my breath to nopony.

BAM.

“I’m okaaaaay!”

I stifled a giggle.

“Looks like you owe me, Diamond…”

But she didn’t. After all, I was alone.

Bereft of her endless prattle, the journey had been haunted with a heavy stillness that quickly grew discomforting. I began humming a tune to drown out the quietness—anything to distract from how exposed I felt without her by my side.

In time, my mind was lost to the low rumble of a subdued contrabass and the rising swell of hopeful strings.

They glared at me from across the lunch tables. Even as I faced away from them and attempted to focus on finishing my meal, I could still feel their heated gazes boring into the back of my head.

Well, I suppose that was a bit reaching. One couldn’t actually feel the heat of somepony’s stare. Such a silly thing to say, really. Who in Sun’s name could have come up with the ridiculous notion that another pony’s gaze could produce the sensation of warmth?

…Perhaps the same pony who realized their heart wouldn’t settle when they knew they had earned somepony’s ire.

Curious which of the three were currently watching, I casually turned my head.

Ah. The orange one. She didn’t even bother to redirect her gaze after we made eye contact—instead, she narrowed her eyes, her stare piercing right through my eye sockets.

…That was a rather morbid analogy as well. Prose is strange.

I broke my gaze with the Crusader and turned back to my lunch, dining in silence. I couldn’t help but notice that my thoughts were certainly traveling to some particularly curious places today, at least without the constant companionship of Diamond. I supposed it was some kind of self-defense mechanism triggered by my subconsciousness to contest the dreary nature of loneliness.

That conclusion offered precious little comfort.

Like myself, the Crusaders were evidently displeased with yesterday’s turn of events. After all, our best of friends had been dismissed from school grounds over a fight that could have easily been avoided.

I suppose I should have taken heart in having dodged that bullet. Despite my participation, Sweetie Belle didn’t seem intent on holding me accountable for any of my actions over the last week or so, and nor did the school administration. Considering the allegations that had been cast about during the hearing, letting Diamond take the lead during the schoolyard confrontation yesterday had been a wise move indeed. Much of the responsibility had been misdirected onto her, and I was, once again, spared.

That being said, it had been a relatively close call—I had come under the eye of scrutiny several times, far too often for comfort. Diamond had been extraordinarily reckless this last week, so perhaps some distance was warranted, after all.

A shame that said distance would leave me with nopony to spend time with during school breaks, or even to pass notes with during class.

How droll.

My lunch finished, I rose from my seat and trotted over to the trashcan to dispose of it. With a sigh, I stared out to the courtyard, where dozens of other school kids were already frolicking about with their artless little amusements.

The day had become so utterly tedious, I was almost begging for something even remotely exciting to—

“Scoots, no, don’t even waste yer time.“

“Hey, gimme some space, okay? I gotta do this.”

Drat. Curse my own wayward inclinations.

“Hey you,” growled a boyish voice, almost directly behind me.

As if the day couldn’t get more irksome, I now had a pest buzzing in my ear. Perhaps if I ignored it, it would bug off—

“I’m talking to you, filly,” came her voice again.

No such providence. Feh.

With a groan, I turned around and found myself face to face with Scootaloo, the other two Crusaders trailing just a few meters behind her. While Button Mash and Apple Bloom seemed hesitant to step forward, Scootaloo clearly held no such reservations, her forelegs dug slightly into the dirt in what appeared to be a guarded stance.

I had always pictured Scootaloo to be the leader of their little cadre—headstrong, outspoken, proud (though for what reasons I could not fathom). She certainly seemed the pony to take charge.

I, on the other hoof, was most certainly not that type of pony by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, with Diamond’s absence, I was faced with the prospect of having to deal with Scootaloo on my own.

I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t even slightly intimidated.

Fortunately, I was very good at lying.

“I don’t engage with ill-mannered proles incapable of addressing another pony with even a modicum of respect,” I said, carefully morphing my outward tone into a mixture of haughtiness and apathy.

“Pfft!” she scoffed, not relaxing in the slightest. “Does it look like I give a flying feather about respecting you?”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Of course not. I can’t imagine you were ever taught deference to your betters by whatever uneducated simpletons had raised you.”

Already, she had begun fuming. “Hey, you take that back—!“

“I shall do no such thing, you simple-minded buffoon,” I replied, turning my nose to her. “You incited this confrontation, so you best expect—“

“Right,” she spat, “just like how you and Diamond provoked yesterday’s fight, yeah?”

...Feh. “Perhaps if your friend hadn’t struck Diamond earlier that morning, she wouldn’t have—“

“Sure as a sickle on Sunday you and Diamond had started that one too,” said Apple Bloom, finally breaking her silence.

“And what proof do you have?” I shot back to the filly. “Your baseless allegations amount to nothing.”

“They mean a lot when yer the ones who always pick the fights with us in the first place.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one whose friend beat mine into submission,” I retorted coldly, and she cringed. “Did you see the bruises on Diamond’s face? Do you see this?” I waved a hoof at my side, where my gray coat was still slightly reddened and bruised from when Sweetie Belle had slammed into me yesterday.

Apple Bloom jawed as she struggled to retort. “Y-yeah, well y’all wouldn’t stop—“

“She could have easily just walked away, and everything would have been fine—”

“That’s a load of manure and you know it!” snapped Scootaloo. “You two are always railing on us, and you just expect us to walk away?!”

“Me? Expect you? Perish the thought. I’m surprised you weren’t the one to strike first, you vicious little hellion—“

In an instant, Scootaloo flared her wings and dashed forward with a furious glare in her eyes, and I recoiled, throwing up my hooves in defense—until she was suddenly yanked back as both her friends latched onto her rear legs.

“Scootaloo, no!” yelped Button.

“Calm yer knickers—!” implored Apple Bloom.

She scowled, her front hooves pawing at the ground. “Grrr— get off me so I can teach this shit stain a lesson—!”

In defiance of my own trembling hooves, I willed myself to stand tall, even lean forward.

“Yes, please, do so!” I taunted over the roar of my own pounding heartbeat. “Strike me, I dare you! Strike me and prove me right!”

I locked eyes with her and stood my ground with as much willpower as I could muster. Scootaloo snarled menacingly at me, teeth bared, her pupils narrowed into tiny pinpricks.

But I was right. She couldn’t touch me. If she struck first, she would be the one in trouble—the school would see to that. And it was clear, in the gritting of her teeth and the slight quiver of her lips, that she knew this as well as I.

Within moments, she had loosened her stance and returned to full height—but her fiery gaze never left mine.

Like it mattered. I had won this encounter. My heart slowed to a steady rhythm as the adrenaline bled from my system.

“Very wise, little Crusader.” I threw back my braid with a huff. “Now, as… entertaining as this little performance of yours has been today, I imagine it has long outlived whatever meager purpose you intended, were there any to speak of at all.”

“Why you—“

“Enough, Scootaloo,” I interrupted sternly, holding a hoof up. “I had absolutely no interest in a confrontation today, and I have much less in prolonging this one.”

I began to trot past them, ignoring their eyes as they tracked my advance. But as I passed within a pony’s length of Button Mash…

“S-so then why the other days?” he finally spoke, an uncharacteristically somber drone clashing with his typically volatile demeanor.

Curious. The boy had said barely a thing throughout the entire dispute. I pivoted to face him, and he took a frightened step back, flinching noticeably.

An image came unbidden to my mind; an armored Gunslinger, tall and proud, cloak billowing in the wind.

It was hard to reconcile that image with the frightened little colt standing before me.

Within moments, Apple Bloom had moved in front of Button Mash protectively. Her stance remained neutral, but she glared at me fiercely nonetheless.

Adjusting my glasses with a hoof, I ignored her and directed my gaze to Button Mash once more.

“I’m simply not in the mood today,” I replied simply.

“That isn’t fair,” asserted Button, recovering quickly from his retreat and stepping past Apple Bloom.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at his sudden bravery. “How is it not fair? You desire peace, so I am giving it to you. You should be grateful.” You unappreciative little whelp.

“You want us to leave you alone when you’re not in the mood,” he countered, “but what about when we’re not in the mood?”

“Yeah, Button’s right!” quipped Apple Bloom. “Y’all expect us to lay off, but you ain’t never done the same for us! Why should we even listen to ya?”

Scootaloo snarled at me. “You obviously think we’re stupid—“

“I do.”

“—but you’re wrong, and we sure as hell know that you just don’t have the teats to go hoof-to-hoof with us alone.”

“Hah! Don’t be ridiculous,” I said dismissively. “It’s simply no fun unless all of us are present to—”

“It ain’t fun at all!” snapped Apple Bloom bitterly.

“Yeah, that excuse is pretty trash,” spat Scootaloo. “Face it, Silver. You’re just a coward without your snobby little friend to hide behind, and she only ever tries anything when she knows she has the advantage—”

“And you think you’re so much better, do you!” I snapped angrily, whirling on Scootaloo and pressing my face right up to hers. “Oh yes, so very brave and honorable, waiting until I’m alone before converging on me all at once like opportunistic thugs!”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened and she stepped back. Pathetic.

“Don’t make me laugh,” I said coldly. “At the end of the day, you three are no better than her.”

“Her?! Yer not much better than her either!” shouted Apple Bloom.

Did she just—?! She compared me to Diamond! How dare she—

NO.

I bit my tongue before it could betray me.

In the momentary delay that followed, I realized that the entire patio had fallen silent. Looking past the Crusaders, I realized that we had been surrounded by a small crowd, just like yesterday.

And in the distance, a magenta blur stampeded onto the patio.

“What in Sun’s name is going on now?!” yelled Miss Cheerilee in a furious rage. “Wasn’t yesterday enough?!”

And opportunity strikes.

“It was!” I shouted back at her, and she froze, clearly not having expected me to agree. “Yesterday was beyond enough! I’m not even going to try figuring out why these three saw fit to start another quarrel with me, while I’m alone, but I will have none of it! I refuse to be ganged up on! Now kindly shove off so I might at least suffer what’s left of this miserable day in peace!”

And with that, I stormed past the Crusaders, past the crowd, past a stunned Miss Cheerilee, and back into the classroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

S W E E T I E B E L L E

“...and the dress rehearsal should be taking place on Friday evening, while the interview itself should be sometime during Saturday afternoon,” explained Rarity as she carefully disassembled one of her ensembles from a ponnequin. “So I likely won’t be home until the end of Sunday, at best.”

“Sweet, so I’ll have the Boutique all to myself?” I asked with a wicked grin, rolling up a few bolts of fabric and stowing them away in an open suitcase.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Sweetie, if I so much as find a hair out of place—”

“Oh it’s fine,” I waved dismissively. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? I invite a few friends over, throw a party, knock back a couple drinks, maybe even set off some fireworks—”

“Sweetie Belle,” Rarity intoned warningly.

“—and take bets on how quickly the place burns down!” I finished cheerfully. She gave me a flat look, and I responded with a casual shrug. “What? The insurance check might be pretty killer.”

Rarity cracked a small, crooked smile at that. “Need I remind you that I took that plan when I found the stove alight at three past midnight.”

“Aw, c’mon, that was one time,” I groaned.

“And let’s not forget the softball that went flying through my bedroom window two months ago.”

“Scootaloo’s fault!”

“The overflowing bathtub?”

“Uhhh…”

“The unlocked back door?”

“Ehehehe…”

“The open skylight on a rainy day?”

“Hey, in my defense, I had no idea we had a scheduled downpour!”

“That’s because somepony neglected to check the forecast bulletin that morning,” she rebuked.

…Welp.

“…It seems you have me at a disadvantage, Lady Rarity,” I admitted, raising my hooves up in resignation.

“But of course,” she replied smoothly, trotting over to her desk to begin sorting through a small stack of papers. “After all, I am your elder sister, dearest Sweetie Belle. I know you far more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Know this, Heartless Dictator!” I challenged, rising to my hooves and holding an accusatory hoof out. “I can only grow in strength, and in time your tyranny shall come to an end!”

“We’ll see about that,” she sing-songed in reply.

“No, but seriously, I’ll be extra careful, I promise,” I said, shutting the case and moving to the next empty one, carefully piling in various accessories.

“Oh, fret not,” assured Rarity with a gentle smile. “I have complete faith in you.” A pause. “…Mostly.”

Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, sis.

I glanced into the suitcase I was packing—there was a pair of designer glasses frames, which I levitated to my face.

“Rarity. Look at me.”

“Hmm?”

As she turned, I lowered the spectacles with a hoof to peer over the frame with the most colossally unamused look I could muster.

My melodrama was rewarded with an remarkably unladylike snort, and I briefly entertained keeping score of the uncharacteristic responses I drew from my sister.

“Seriously though, you have nothing to worry about,” I assured her, replacing the glasses in their case. “I’ll probably just invite Button over and we’ll probably hole up in my room and play video games all day.”

An abrupt ruffling of parchment caused me to look up from my case towards Rarity, who had paled visibly, a stack of scrolls fluttering to the floor around her desk.

“…Something up?”

“That…” She blinked, then shook her head with a strained look. “Forgive me. For a moment, I thought that sentence was going somewhere completely different…”

“…Huh?”

“Ahem! Nothing!” She laughed nervously, then gave me a somewhat anxious smile. “I would hope the… other Crusaders are invited as well?”

“…Maybe?” I shrugged. “I mean, the other two aren’t too big on games, so…”

“Still, their presence would be…” Rarity coughed.

“Hmm?”

“You know... have a few extra girls around, just in case…”

…Oh, that’s what she was getting at.

Oh hey look, a mental image of Button standing on my doorstep, hair slicked back immaculately, the stem of a vivid red rose caught between his teeth and a ‘come-hither’ look expressed through half-lidded eyes. I totally needed that visual.

No, really, I did. The image was so utterly ridiculous that I burst into laughter on the spot.

“Bahahahahaha!”

“Umm… Sweetie?” came Rarity’s shocked reply.

“Oh Stars,” I giggled, wiping a tear from my eye. “Sis, Button’s harmless. He wouldn’t try to make a move, especially on me.”

Rarity didn’t seem to share my mirth. It took a few moments before she hesitantly responded. “He seems rather… sweet on you, pardoning the pun.”

“Nah, he doesn’t seem sweet on anypony. I mean, Apple Bloom’s been chasing his tail for the last several months, and it’s almost like he hasn’t even noticed.”

Rarity gave a meaningful hum, and stared up towards the ceiling, apparently lost in thought.

Rolling my eyes, I snapped the accessory case shut and rolled it over to the door.

“All set with this side of the room.” Finally.

This seemed to pull her from her thoughts. She turned to me and smiled beatifically. “Thank you ever so much, love.”

“Sure thing, sis. What else do you have left to do?”

“Oh, just logistics, mostly.” Her smile thinned slightly as she stared down at her papers. “And… an interview to prepare for. And a rehearsal, and a contract drafting, and…”

A heavy sigh followed.

“Nervous?” I trotted up to her.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she said with a helpless shrug.

“Well, what’s there to be nervous about? You got the job, right?”

“I’m on the billing, yes, but you could say I’m in a sort of… trial phase? Nothing’s been set in stone yet, and they’re asking for more samples of my work before moving forward.” Her gaze drifted towards the free-standing ponnequins, their prior burdens now packed away into the various cases that were scattered about the floor. “This is such a high-profile contract, and I don’t think I’ve really ever done anything of this caliber before. What if they don’t like my preliminary designs?”

Nonsense. I saw those ensembles. You have more talent than you could possibly imagine. You can create.

The most I’m destined to do is enjoy the creations of others.

“Don’t be crazy, Rarity,” I said, leaning my head into her neck. “I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. You were meant to do this. They’ll see that.”

“Let’s hope so…” She wrapped an ivory hoof around my head, holding me close. A moment passed, with me simply relaxing in her embrace.

Though I wish she’d hurry up with her moment just a little bit.

“Oh, but don’t you worry about me too much,” she finally said, letting go. “Why don’t you find something productive to do with the rest of your day?”

“Oh c’mon, sis, you know I’ll just be upstairs playing Eternity.” It was a little past noon now, after all—Freya was probably online by now, and Shadow and Button would likely follow shortly.

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” she said with a defeated sigh and a knowing smile.

“You know me.” I trotted to the door. “Lemme know if you need anything else?”

“I’ll be sure to do so.”

I closed the door, then immediately galloped for the stairs and bounded up them two steps at a time.

It was time to see my friends.

S I L V E R S P O O N

As I stepped out of the classroom into the mid-afternoon sun, I released a rather hearty yawn. Little harm in the world permitting me a small, unladylike self-indulgence after having suffered a final period whose mood was so uneasy it might as well have been a funeral.

Not that I was complaining. Despite causing an atmosphere of extreme unease, my outburst at lunch had achieved its intended effect—all scrutiny for the confrontation had been cleanly misdirected onto the Crusaders, who had apparently come up with not a single rational explanation for their actions. And I was once again let off scot-free.

Lowering the hoof from my mouth, I noticed several figures standing just in front of the gate to the school grounds. Typically, this was where most parents would await their children, eyes skimming the crowd of approaching school kids—but this day, the adults seemed to be dispersed rather abnormally. Their backs were turned to the front of the school, and they appeared to be congregating around something in their midst, arguing in heated voices.

“…and I honestly feel much safer—“

“—but she has been nothing but a delight—“

“—a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off—“

“—related to an Element bearer, for Sun’s sake—“

“—now, now, please, calm down!” rose a voice, quelling the small crowd. “I can only take statements from a few ponies at a time! If you’d like to offer your thoughts, queue up in an orderly fashion!”

As the crowd began diffusing into a semblance of order, the cobalt blue of Noteworthy’s coat came into view. He stood slightly to the side of the gate, wearing his trademark fedora and holding a notepad in his hoof, a pencil bobbing from just out the corner of his mouth.

“This can’t be good,” came a voice to my left, and before I could face the speaker, I was shoved lightly aside as several of my schoolmates rushed towards the scene.

“Ruffians,” I muttered under my breath. But my curiosity had been piqued, and I trotted up in their wake.

“…and your name was?” queried the reporter to the first in the newly-formed queue as I approached within hearing distance.

“Heavyweight,” grunted the massive white stallion who had—to nopony’s surprise—found himself at the front of the line, likely not even of his own intention. His scrawny son, Featherweight, stood by his side, eyes flicking every which way that wasn’t towards his father or the reporter. For a moment, our gazes met—his eyes widened in shock and he quickly looked away.

“And Mister Heavyweight, how would you sum up your thoughts on the situation?”

“Concerned,” he replied straightforwardly. “I’ve known the filly for long enough to know she’s a good girl at heart, but I can’t help but worry as of late. She seems to have developed a strange fascination with warfare, and by the sound of it, her temper’s gotten shorter.”

“Daaad,” bemoaned Featherweight. He was ignored.

“Warfare, eh? Interesting,” Mister Noteworthy affirmed with a nod. “Do you have any suspicions regarding the root cause of this interest, or any other aggressive tendencies she may have exhibited?”

“I can’t say for certain,” replied Mister Heavyweight. “I mean, for one, this ol’ tiff with the gryphons has everypony on edge. But I can’t imagine her personal taste in hobbies is helping much.”

“Personal hobbies?”

“Yeah. She’s very invested in video games—just got a cutie mark for it too.”

“Ah, so you’re worried that video games are part of the cause.”

“Well, they might be.”

“What do you mean, might be?” came a pony from the crowd. “It’s obviously the cause.”

Mister Heavyweight turned to face the new pony, a beige-ish stallion. “Oh?”

“Of course!” affirmed the newcomer. “Why, surely you saw the article from the other day, no? The filly’s been playing some kind of shooting game! Surely any game where you get points by killing ponies is bound to mess with the impressionable psyche of a young filly like that!”

There were a few calls of affirmation from the crowd.

“I don’t think it’d be wise to jump to conclusions—“ started Mister Heavyweight.

“There are no other conclusions to jump to!” the other stallion retorted. “For her to not only get a cutie mark, but start a fight within a day or so of it appearing? Clearly there’s some correlation!”

“Yeah!”

“She’s dangerous!”

“It’s just a coincidence!”

“Makes too much sense!”

“Now that’s just silly,” grunted Mister Heavyweight in reply. “Correlation doesn’t imply—“

“Hey, look!” called a mare, a hoof extending out of the crowd in my direction. “Isn’t that one of the fillies that she got into a fight with?”

Suddenly, several eyes turned to me, and I froze, unsure of how to react after having so quickly become the center of attention.

“Look, you can even see a bruise on her side!”

“Poor girl…”

“That’s what she’s done?!”

“That could have been my little filly!”

For a moment, my eyes met with Mister Noteworthy’s—he seemed unsure of what to make of my presence, but they sparkled with the glimmer of an idea. Waving a hoof, he beckoned me forward.

Whatever you’re planning, do leave me out of it, please.

I smiled, shook my head, and stepped back. Before he could speak up again, the brown stallion shouted once more.

“The danger is obvious!” he declared, regaining the attention of the crowd. “This Sweetie Belle poses a risk to the entirety of the student body!”

The gathering riled up once again, and Mister Noteworthy broke his gaze with me, clearing his throat loudly and stepping forward.

“Ahem! Please calm down!” He rapped the pencil on his notepad loudly. “Yes, yes, I realize everypony has something to say, so let’s move along, shall we? Thank you for your time, Mister Heavyweight, your input has been greatly appreciated! Next!”

As the questioning resumed, I stepped back and made myself inconspicuous, not intent on having the spotlight shoved upon me a second time. Instead, I merely watched in silence as the reporter filtered through the procession. The thoroughness of his questioning was extraordinarily inconsistent—if the pony didn’t have anything negative to say of Sweetie Belle, or if they made no mention of video games, their interview would be very short indeed.

Alas, it was getting fairly predictable, and after a few more minutes I decided there was little to gain from staying. Thankfully, the crowd did not take note of my presence as I waded through the throng and out the gate.

As I emerged from the schoolyard and gazed upon the vast expanse of Ponyville, I realized that the sky showed no hints of the yellow-orange that typically marked the beginning of sundown. Despite the earlier distraction, the afternoon was still quite young, and I had no plans for it.

Typically, by now, Diamond would have already come up with some diversion to commit to, and we would be well on our way towards various frivolities. But without her, I realized I was essentially free to do as I pleased, without the burden of my friend’s whimsy.

I… wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. Despite all the restraints that came with being in Diamond’s company, she at least provided direction. Without her, I… hadn’t the foggiest idea of what to do with my day.

I glanced in the direction of Diamond’s home, briefly entertaining the thought of calling her out after all...

...until my gaze fell upon the circular structure of the Carousel Boutique, a purple-white anomaly that interrupted the rolling beige rooftops composing the rest of Ponyville, like a lighthouse in an endless sea of thatch and wood.

“Hmm…”

There was another pony I could spend time with instead…

S W E E T I E B E L L E

Silence befell the dilapidated ruins as we frantically slid into cover.

“Not long, one minute,” announced Zaid, standing tall underneath a flag in the center of the room. He dug his hooves into the sand and loaded a shell into his rocket launcher, hefting it towards the concrete hallway to the south, one of three entrances that led into the room.

“That’s a long-ass time for just the four of us to be holdin’ this spot,” growled Freya, who stood on an elevated balcony to the north, her light machine gun propped up on the railing and strafing the same entrance.

“Long enough,” I muttered, shifting nervously as I crouched behind a low wall that stood before the western doorway, light streaming in from the desert beyond. My eyes drifted to the flag post behind me, from which the guild banner of Sanctuary had been freshly raised, its serene sway bequeathing a false sense of tranquility upon those of us gathered around it. “We can hold out for a minute. As long as they don’t retake this point, we’ll win the match.”

It had been close. Despite being outnumbered against a larger team—a meager four Crusaders against a full opposing force of six—we had barely scraped our way into the lead, after having fought for control of this sector and wresting it away from our enemy.

Now, we merely waited for their retaliatory strike—and there was no doubt it would come in full force. All we needed to do was hold them off and maintain control in order to secure our victory—but that also meant that all they needed to do was wrest it from us to accomplish the same.

It was frightening how close this match had been. While we had taken an early lead, the enemy had been cunning, resourceful, and strangely coordinated, finding ways to subvert our usual strategies mere minutes into the match. Like us, they were most certainly a pre-assembled team, rather than the usual random assortment of players that we were typically confronted with during our match-made games.

“Perhaps it would have been prudent to wait for the rest of our friends,” muttered Stranger next to me as we waited in nervous anticipation.

“Meh.” I shrugged. “Button doesn’t get out of class for another hour, and who knows when Shadow would have shown up. I was bored.”

“Note: No listening to Dovetail when bored.”

“Shut up, Zaid,” I grumbled.

“No, seriously, shut up,” barked Freya, holding a single claw up. “I hear ’em.”

My ears perked, and the sound of distant hoofsteps began to echo within the room.

Clop-clop-clop. Armored horseshoes upon… concrete.

“South!” I whirled towards the entrance in question… through which a sparking ball sailed into the room.

“Ack!” Zaid leapt out of the way, the grenade plopping down into the sands where he had been standing moments before. A moment passed before—

“AW HEL, IT’S A FLA—“

POP.

My eardrums exploded with a shrill ringing noise as a wave of white static washed over my visor, blinding me to my surroundings.

“Horseapples!” I cursed, but even I couldn’t hear my own voice over my ringing ears.

Not good. They had taken us by surprise. I slammed my back against the low wall, crouching as low as I could in hope that my senses would return before I could be taken out..

As my hearing slowly recovered, the first sound I heard was the roar of a machine gun.

“—teach ya to mess with us!” came Freya’s hawkish bellow as she rained Helfire upon the hallway.

“You okay Zaid?!” I shouted, the image of the room resolving as my sight returned. Zaid stood just across the way, looking no worse for wear.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied with a wave, before his face paled suddenly. “BEHIND YOU!”

I whirled around and found a stallion standing over me, electrified blades extended from his hooves and a mad glint in his eye.

PSSCCCHEEWWW!

A trio of energy bolts tore into him, and he disintegrated into a fine powder.

“That’s one,” said Stranger to my left as she stood, leftover vapors sizzling from the tip of her fusion rifle. She turned back to the entrance, “but there appears to be—“

A shot rang out, and within moments, Stranger’s lifeless body slumped over the wall, a fresh hole in her forehead. I whirled towards the doorway and saw three figures charging murderously towards me.

“Crap!” I ducked behind the low wall as several shots sailed over my head. “It was a distraction!” I glanced around frantically for ideas, then spotted Zaid, who was hefting his launcher.

“Got you!” he shouted, and the weapon lit up, a rocket surging forth from the barrel—I ducked as it cruised over my head, a herald of destruction to the unlucky souls on the other end.

BOOM.

Bits of dust and debris bounced off my helmet.

“Two!” he yelled. “One more outside!”

I leapt over the dividing wall and dashed out the doorway—the sun flashed into view of my visor, momentarily blinding me.

SMACK.

“GAH!”

Pain erupted from the right side of my body and I was thrown to my left from the surprise melee blow—staggering into place, I quickly looked up to find a mare charging at me, closing the distance to strike once more.

I scrambled to my left and her killing blow went sailing past me, leaving her vulnerable. I quickly lunged forward and struck out with my hind hooves, impacting upon her armor with a loud SMACK and causing her energy shielding to flare out of existence from the overwhelming force. She quickly recovered from the counterattack and spun to face me with a snarl, raising her shotgun—but I had already leveled my Hawkmoon to her head.

BAM.

She crumpled to the floor.

Two left. I quickly glanced around my surroundings, my hand cannon readied—and found myself alone.

A yelp from inside the room.

Uh-oh.

Quickly, I dashed back into the room—just in time to witness Freya’s body toppling to the ground before me. I looked up towards the balcony and saw a stallion leap over, descending upon the room and firing madly towards Zaid, who fired off several shotgun blasts as he backed into a corner, peppered by automatic fire.

I blustered forward and fired three shots at the airborne stallion—the first managed to pierce through the already weakened shields, and the second pierced his temple. The force of my hand cannon rounds was enough to throw him back against the wall, now splattered with his blood.

I turned around to grin at Zaid…

…and suddenly found my vision completely overwhelmed by a descending gryphon, who had flanked us from the concrete hallway we had left unguarded in the chaos. I frantically raised my Hawkmoon and fired two shots—they both glanced right off his armor—before my weapon gave a telltale click.

It was empty.

The gryphon’s claws lanced forward, and I raised my hooves to no avail as he dug his electrified talons into my throat.

Hawkmoon clattered to the floor. My vision began to blur. I opened my mouth to cry out—but all that left my lips was a wet, pathetic gurgle.

The gryphon tore his talons out, and my legs give way beneath me, robbed of their strength. As I stared up into the victorious eyes of the gryphon, a thought occurred to me…

…he had no idea there was somepony else in the room, did he?

As my vision slowly began to fade, a stallion burst forth from the shadows of the corner—the gryphon whirled around, his eyes widened in stark surprise, just in time for Zaid to lash forward with a foreleg. A huge smile overcame the horse’s face as a massive shockwave burst from his hoof, exploding outwards and instantly tearing the gryphon’s body into shreds.

The room fell silent. My vision went black.

But not before a sonorous, disembodied voice pierced the veil between life and death to make one final proclamation:

“A hard-fought victory, Crusaders. Congratulations.”

All at once, my vision returned, and I found myself in the cockpit of an airship, standing at the helm as if I had always been there.

Beyond the windows that lined the cockpit, I could see the ruins of the desert arena falling distantly below as we quickly gained altitude. Within seconds, it was a mere speck on the horizon, indistinct from the vast desert landscape, until that too faded from sight, obscured by a thick layer of fog as we ascended into the cloud layer.

“HAH!” came a cheer behind me. “Nice save, Zaid!”

I turned around to face my team, who had materialized onto the ship behind me. All of them were walking up to Zaid, who stood in the center, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck with a forehoof.

“Is nothing,” he replied embarrassedly.

“That was rather inspired,” intoned Stranger. “Your quick last-minute feint helped us snatch victory from an impossible situation.”

“Yeah, and all you needed to do was use Dovetail as bait!” said Freya with a snicker.

“Heh. Sorry, Dove.” He looked to me apologetically. “Gryphon come in. I back away. I wait for him to turn to you.”

I felt a massive, stupid grin overcome my face.

“That was awesome. Brilliant.”

He beamed wider than I.

“Hey, Zaid’s actually getting good at this game!” chuckled Freya, jubilantly throwing an arm around his neck.

“It was due time that Dovetail’s tactical prowess would rub off on us,” said Stranger, turning to me in admiration.

“Naaah, that stuff’s innate,” I replied with a dismissive wave. “After a while, you just start to figure out patterns in enemy behavior and learn to exploit them. It comes naturally if you’re smart enough, and all of you guys are more than smart enough.”

“Only a team as talented as yours would call that ‘natural’,” crackled an unfamiliar voice into the cockpit speakers.

What the—

I spun to face the front viewport of the airship, just as it breached the cloud layer into the world above. The sun was setting magnificently over the far horizon, and its light glinted across the brass-plated hull of another zeppelin, hovering idly just a few leagues away.

Oh horseapples. We were still in the matchmaking lobby with the other team.

“Though I should have expected no less from members of Sanctuary,” continued the female voice, in a tone that sounded genuinely impressed. “You certainly live up to your reputation.”

Huh. “Thank you for the compliment.” I didn’t realize we had become that well-known.

“Hey, we’re famous!” chortled Freya. Clearly I wasn’t the only one.

“May I come onboard for a moment?”

That was… odd. The leader of the losing team wanted to meet us on our ship?

“To what end?” I queried.

There was a pause.

“I have an… offer I would like to propose,” came the cautious reply.

I turned to glance at my teammates—Zaid shrugged, while Stranger quirked a curious eyebrow.

“Hey, it couldn’t hurt,” said Freya. “Might as well see what they want.”

“Sure, I guess,” I replied. “We’ll meet you on deck.” I quickly tapped a few controls on the dashboard, releasing the lock on the transmat and allowing them to teleport aboard our ship.

“This is… weird?” said Freya quizzically.

“What does team want to give?” said Zaid, asking the question on all of our minds.

“I dunno,” I replied as I trotted past my team, who fell into step behind me. “I’m not even sure who they are.”

“For ponies we were match-made against, they were very coordinated,” noted Stranger as we began to climb the stairs to the top deck.

“Yeah, they really gave us a run for our money,” quipped Freya. “No doubt they’re as serious about the game as we are. Maybe they wanna merge with Sanctuary?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The wind caught our manes as we emerged into the open-air deck underneath the airship’s gondola. At the far end, a pulsing static form began to appear as a pony transmatted onto our ship. By the time we had all climbed out of the stairwell, the static had resolved into the figure of a unicorn mare. From her armor, I recognized her as the one I had fought beyond the doorway.

“That was a fantastic match,” came her voice as she trotted forward with a gentle smile and an extended hoof. “It was certainly a pleasure and a privilege to fight against you and yours.”

“The privilege is ours,” I replied, shaking her hoof with my own. “You nearly wiped the floor with us there.”

She chuckled pleasantly. “I bet if the rest of your team had been here, you would have outmatched us, no contest.”

“Heh, well…” I grinned dumbly. “…That’s us! Sanctuary! Uh, I guess?” Damn it. Can somepony else please talk for me? I suck at this stuff.

“Pfft!” Freya threw an arm around my neck. “Forgive our illustrious leader, she’s positively dreadful at taking compliments.”

“Shut up, Freya.” I felt myself blushing furiously. You are not helping.

Stranger stepped forward. “May I ask to whom we owe the pleasure?” Ugh, thank you, for Sun’s sake.

“Ah, my apologies. Allow me to introduce myself.”

The mare’s horn lit up, and with a blue flash, her armor disappeared. Curly locks of rich red cascaded down her head. The rest of her pale white coat was obscured by the clothing she wore underneath, a smart navy dress uniform. And perched upon her crown was…

No.

Way.

Only one type of player could own a tricorn hat in this game.

Its creators.

“My name is Prosperity,” the mare spoke softly, with a graceful bow. “I work for Mythic Incorporated, and I’m a developer for Eternity.”

|♫| ɪɪɪ. The Rose

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

The bell jingled as I stepped over the threshold to the Golden Oak Library, and not a single pony looked up.

Hmph. Somehow I expected better service from an establishment run by one of the most respected mares in Ponyville.

My eyes swept the room—there were a multitude of assistants, apprentices, hired hands and what-have-you darting every which way, fetching books and coffee and all manner of things for who really cared why. Now, where was that— ah.

I made a beeline for the dragon, who was perched precariously on a ladder.

“Excuse me—“

“Woah!”

Startled, he lost balance and dropped the book in his claws. I immediately grabbed the base of the ladder to stabilize it, and used another hoof to pluck the book out of the air before it could clatter to the ground.

“Phew! That was a close one. Thanks, uh—“ he turned around, and his eyes widened “—oh. Silver Spoon.”

“Certainly,” I replied, biting my tongue to avoid a sharp retort at his sudden recalcitrance. “Apologies for startling you.”

“…S’all good,” he replied more genially, overcoming his momentary silence and holding out an expectant claw. “Ladders and I just have a… history.”

“Well, you’re certainly taller than the last time I saw you—I’m sure you’ll be rid of them in due time,” I said pleasantly, tossing the book up towards his outstretched arm.

“Heh, yeah, I guess…?” he responded uncertainly, deftly grabbing the book from the air and shelving it before sliding down to ground level. “So, um, did you need something?”

“I was wondering if the Archmage was in. I have need of her services.”

A huff. “Believe it or not, but by now I probably know the library better than—“

“I meant in regards to magic.” Out with it already, you overgrown lizard. You have yet to earn my displeasure—don’t give me cause to change my mind.

“Oh. Right.” He pointed to the stairs in the corner. “She’s getting ready to leave for Canterlot soon, so she’s been packing. Just watch your hooves in there—it’s a bit of a mess.”

“Thank you.”

I strode for the stairs without further hesitation, eager to leave my awkward conversation with the dragon behind. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a sparkling conversationalist, and I often found myself struggling to get along with him.

Probably something I should fix. After all, he would be my only lifeline to the Archmage in case I needed more help from her in the future, as I did now.

I approached the door and knocked twice. No answer came.

I didn’t have time for this.

Opening the door slightly, I began to call out, but paused as I noticed voices emanating from the open crack. Curious, I held my ear to the door.

“…were friends with her, so you would know—” came a distressed voice.

“Gilda’s not my friend anymore, how many times do I have to tell ya?!” snapped another pony, whose raspy voice sounded… familiar. “Do you even know how much shit’s been slung at me ever since people found out I even knew a gryphon—”

“I know, and I hate having to saddle you with this, but having known her probably means you have at least some degree of insight into Gryphosi culture! Please, I need your help!”

“Okay, Twilight, first off, Gilda was raised in Cloudsdale for most of her life, so I seriously doubt that. Second of all, I just… I have a job now. And they expect a lot from me, yanno? Just like yours does from you. I’m a full part of their team, and I can’t just up and walk out on them!”

“I—I can make a royal decree!” came her clearly somewhat panicked reply. “Just a quick letter to the Princess, and you can be reconstituted to serve the needs of the Crown! Even the Wonderbolts can’t say no to—“

“Twilight, realize what you’re asking. If the shutterbugs caught so much as a fart in their direction that even vaguely smelled like pasta, they’d stick my head on a pike and parade me through the streets.”

“That’s… a bit extreme…”

“You know what I mean. My career’s definitely at stake, even if my head isn’t. Heh.” A pause. “Look, you’re my girl, Twi, and there’s a ton I’d give up for your sake… but this is really, really big. I’ve dreamed for this moment all my life, and I can’t just up and throw it all away for… for…”

“For the fate of Equestria and her people? You’re worried about your own life, but what about the lives of thousands of other—”

“Twilight, I’m not stupid. I know what’s at risk. Which, for the record, is why I’m not saying no. At least, not entirely.”

“…You’re not?”

“I know you’re under a lotta pressure, girl. Trying to play nice with the gryphons can’t be easy. So… for now, I’ll be there for ya when I can. Just write to me whenever you need to, and I’ll tell you what I know. And if it looks like things are coming to a head, you can, uh, ‘reconceive’ me or whatever, and I’ll come. Just… please, Twilight. Keep in mind what it means for me, okay?”

“I… I understand, Dash. And I’m sorry, if I’m being too pushy. I’m just so… so scared…”

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself. After all those letters and stuff? You know friendship better than anypony else. I’m surprised Princess Celestia hasn’t promoted you to princess of friendship or something extra corny like that.”

“Heh, I don’t think it’s that simple…”

“Who knows? Everything’s simple to you. You know how to solve almost every problem like it was my first-grade math book.”

“…You made it to first grade?”

“Very funny, Twi.” A huff. “For real though, I think you got this in the bag. Just have a little faith in yourself, yeah?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks, Dashie.”

“Anytime, Twiley. Still down for dinner with the rest of the gang before ya skip town?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Wicked. Let’s hope the world doesn’t try its hand, then. Anyways, peace and chicken grease—”

“Dash, not the window.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Lemme just—”

Oh dear.

I raised my hoof inches away from the door—within seconds, it was floating before the face of Rainbow Dash instead.

“…Yo?” came her unsteady voice, her ruby eyes narrowing at me in scrutiny as she stood at the open door, prismatic mane only barely coming to rest.

“Err, sorry, I was just about to knock,” I said quickly, lowering my hoof with a smile. “I had a request to make of the Archmage, if she has a moment?”

“Is someone at the door, Dash?” came her voice from within.

“Yeah, some gray kid with glasses. Says she wants a favor or something.”

Gray kid? Really?

“Oh! Let her in, I’ll be down in a moment.”

“In ya go, squirt.” She stepped aside. “She’s up packing on her bed loft balcony thingy, so just give her a bit.”

“Thank you.” As I stepped in, Miss Dash whisked out and closed the door shut.

Firebrand.

Emerging into the room, I gave it a rapid study. The room had the typical rustic charm that one could only achieve by… hollowing out a gigantic, magically-infused oak tree, I suppose. Though the boxes, instruments, endless stacks of books, and other scientific paraphernalia certainly stood as a fascinating juxtaposition against the natural space within which it was carved.

Of course everything would be a mess on the verge of a departure. Though, knowing what little I did of the Archmage and her rambunctious antics, I vacantly wondered if the mare’s personal quarters were always in such a state of disorder.

“Sorry, excuse the dust!” came her voice from above, and I glanced to my right to witness the mulberry mare in question descending the staircase, her blue robes dragging across the steps. Despite the… aggressive explosion of violet perched upon her head, the unicorn bore a bright smile and looked no worse for wear, even despite her earlier distress. “Things are quite hectic at the moment, but my brain could most certainly use a few minutes’ break. How can I help you, Miss…?”

“Silver Spoon,” I replied with a slight bow. “We’ve never been introduced formally, Archmage, but I’m a student of Miss Cheerilee’s at the school.”

“A pleasure!” She trotted up and held out a hoof. “And you can just call me Twilight, please. I’m not fond of the title.” She winced at her own statement. “Er, well, I mean, I am! It’s a fantastic title, actually, and I worked hard for it after all! But, you know, real names and such.”

“Titles are important,” I said simply, shaking her hoof.

“I… suppose?” She shrugged, turning around and beginning to pile more objects into boxes and bags, the entire time conversing without missing a beat. “I mean, sure, they’re important, but, you know, when you get called that every day non-stop by dozens of ponies, it’s nice to hear your name. Like a reminder that, hey! You actually have a name, and you’re not just a somepony they need something from! Hahaha!”

She tittered nervously, and I restrained my urge to do the same, instead marveling silently at how this mare managed to get anything done with such a tangential thinking process.

“That is certainly true. For someone whose cutie mark is about giving and getting, believe me when I say that those little reminders that we’re equine are incredibly gratifying.”

“Oh smite me, you’re right!” Her eyes glimmered towards me momentarily, as if she had discovered a long-lost soul sister from another mother. “You must get that all the time, considering what your cutie mark means! As rewarding as it must be, I can’t imagine how exhausted you get with ponies always expecting so much from you.”

For such an influential mare, she absolutely, utterly wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was almost criminally easy to conceive of ways to relate to her.

“Indeed,” I replied genially. “It’s a relief to know there’s somepony out there who can relate.”

“No kidding! So much work, so many expectations… I guess at the end of the day, we’re all just ponies, stumbling around in life.” The frazzled mare slumped down onto a cushion, her casual demeanor clashing severely with the grandiose aura exhumed by the regality of her flowing Archmage robes. “I’m glad I’m not alone on this.”

I wondered absently whether it was common for her to act like this, or if I were simply seeing a very rare moment of vulnerability in one of the most powerful mares of the nation.

“Believe me, as am I,” I said, stepping forward and placing a hoof on her shoulder. She did not shirk at the physical contact—if anything, the Archmage seemed to welcome it, eyelids fluttering shut and a subtle smile gracing her lips. “Though I do wish we had met under better circumstances—I had intended to introduce myself in the near future, but when I heard you would be leaving town for quite some time, I made my way over as soon as I could.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” she sighed wistfully, scanning over her various belongings still scattered about. “Apparently Celestia— I mean, the Princess— thinks my time would be better spent trying to appease the gryphons rather than refining our national communications infrastructure!”

“You disagree?”

The Archmage blanched for a moment at that. “Well, yes— I mean, no— I mean, she is the Princess, I can’t really say no…”

“I suppose not.”

I began wandering around the room, examining her various belongings from a respectable distance. There was a veritable potpourri of magical miscellany scattered all over the room—telescopes, spellbooks, star charts, measuring tools of all shapes and sizes. I wonder what any of this could possibly do to help with ‘appeasing the gryphons’.

“I can’t help but be somewhat baffled by it all, to be perfectly honest.”

“Oh?” The Archmage quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well, wouldn’t the task be better filled by—“ wait, don’t imply incompetence “—specialists explicitly trained to that role? Say, an ambassador rather than a mage?”

“Right? Exactly!” the Archmage exclaimed indignantly, her pleasant demeanor beginning to crack. “I mean, yes, that’s what I told the Princess. We have ponies trained for this express purpose! But she said that they hadn’t gotten anywhere with the Gryphosi diplomats, and she wanted to try something new.”

“What was she hoping you could bring to the table?”

The Archmage shrugged helplessly. “She said that my studies in friendship could be invaluable.”

Friendship? What an unorthodox field of study.

“If you’re studied on the subject, then I imagine you’re more than qualified, no?”

“I guess, but darn it Celestia, I’m a mage, not a diplomat!” she huffed, throwing a foreleg out and sweeping her robe off the floor as if to reinforce her point. “I’m at my best working with magic and technology, not gryphons! Ergh! This has me wound up so tight.”

“I can certainly see why,” I consoled her in a sympathetic tone. It took no genius to deduce that this mare did not feel in her element.

“And I had to put all of my current research and development projects on hold, too!” she grumbled as she began ticking items off an astronomically-long checklist—literally, it was the length of at least five or six of the star charts. “For Sun’s sake, just give me one problem I can solve with magic and not logistics or diplomacy, please.”

Well then. What a fortuitous segue.

“Hm. Now that you mention it, I do have something you could likely assist me with…”

“Do you?!” The mare suddenly whirled on me, eyes glittering with barely-restrained glee. “Is it magic? Technology? Science?”

Unbelievable. It’s like she doesn’t even suspect I had an ulterior motive.

“All three.” I fished around in my bag and pulled out a small device. “Are you familiar with these?”

“Hmm.” She lifted the apparatus with her magic and scrutinized it closely. “Looks like a… Stratonet communicator headset. This one comes standard in Hoofbox entertainment consoles.” She turned to me with a curious expression. “Why would you have one of these?”

What do you mean, ‘why would I have one of these’? Was I not allowed to own a video game console?! …Well, according to my own social code, I really wasn’t, but even still!

No, wait. Clearly the Archmage shared some of the same predispositions, or at least was aware of the social stigmas. I could absolutely use this. I just needed to play the part.

Wide frown, break eye contact, stare at hooves in embarrassment…

“O-oh,” came the mare’s awkward follow-up. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t own one or anything…”

All the signs of contrition were there. No doubt she’d do anything to make up for her perceived mistake. Which now made her more open to suggestion.

She was in the hollow of my horseshoe.

“N-no, that’s quite alright,” I said slowly, cautiously, as if fearful that speaking further might open myself up to more unexpected slights to my integrity. “If anything, you… rather aptly illustrated the issue.”

“You mean…?”

I sighed with a tinge of dramatic flair, before staring the mare in the eyes. “Archmage… Miss Twilight… may I entrust you with a secret?”

The Archmage nodded seriously. “Of course. Tell me anything you need to, my little pony.”

Hm. One of the Princesses’ mannerisms, used to comfort their subjects. Student of the Sun, indeed.

“I’m certain you figured it out already, but… I recently came into the possession of a Hoofbox,” I said cautiously, rubbing a foreleg with the other. “And I realize it’s not the most, er… auspicious of diversions for somepony of my particular persuasion…”

“I wouldn’t say that!” said the Archmage with a wave of her hoof, chuckling somewhat hesitantly. “We all have our own guilty pleasures that we enjoy in our spare time.”

“’Guilty’ is certainly the right word for it,” I mumbled in faux-shame, before clearing my throat and staring the Archmage straight in the eye. “Unfortunately for me, my family is held in rather high esteem. As the daughter and inheritor of the Silver estate, I’m afraid such a hobby would reflect rather poorly on myself and my family. Noblesse oblige, and such.”

“I… can understand that, I suppose…”

“I was wondering if you had any ideas. Some way you could help me protect my identity online.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s see.”

Without warning, there was a large magical flash, and my communicator suddenly burst into pieces.

“A-Archmage?!” I shouted, furious that she would destroy my property so suddenly. “What in blazes are you doing?!”

“Disassembling it,” she mumbled, almost completely oblivious to my fuming tone as she floated the disparate pieces over to her desk. “Interesting…”

Okay, okay. This was the Archmage. Even if she was a little eccentric, perhaps even somewhat childish, she knew what she was doing. Armed with that knowledge, I took deep breaths, slowly coaxing my heart to still from the sudden shock, and trotted over to the mare.

“What’s interesting?” I asked.

“This model is much more advanced than the prototype communicators I saw coming off the production line two years ago...” she spoke quickly as she worked. “N-band signal, second-gen wireless Skyfang protocol… but if it’s up to spec, it should… ah, here we go, an open spell-socket for side-loading custom spellware— wait, no, the framework’s been upgraded; shouldn’t be a problem if I update the existing references…”

“Sorry, er,” I spoke slowly, hoping not to break her concentration too severely. “What’s all that in Equish?”

“This communicator’s a lot newer than the ones I worked with. I have a spell that should do just the thing you need, but I have to rewrite some of my old spellcrafting to match. It’ll just be a— huh, this is interesting…”

A few minutes passed as she worked, babbling incoherent technical jargon to herself all the while, as I looked on with something of a… morbid fascination. She had expert control over every piece that made up the device, and seemed able to rapidly assemble and disassemble it at a moment’s notice, remembering where each part went with what appeared to be unerring accuracy. And she did all of this near effortlessly, while apparently writing new spells? Or something to that effect?

I wasn’t quite sure what was going on, exactly. But it was clear that, despite her blundering candor, this was a mare with incredible talent and focus when she truly dove headfirst into her work, and I was not ashamed to admit that I was impressed. So unbroken were her attentions that it came as a shock when she suddenly addressed me directly.

“Miss Silver Spoon, what I’m going to do for you is install a voice modulator spell,” she explained, not once pausing in her labors.

“A… modulator?”

“It’ll mask your voice using timbre and tonal alterations that can make you sound like a completely different pony.”

That… actually sounds perfect.

“Can I choose what I sound like?” I ventured cautiously, not wanting to seem pushy.

“You can right now.” Her labors suddenly paused as she turned to me, the pieces floating ethereally in her aura. “Any specific requests?”

I pondered my in-game persona for a few moments. I had been playing for quite some time already, and had grown used to the new body I occupied, as well as the mechanics of the game itself. But my voice simply didn’t match, and thus I had chosen to stay silent for the most part. That wouldn’t do, if I had any intention of interacting with Sweetie Belle in the game.

I needed a voice to suit my character. And this was my chance.

But then I’d have to tell the Archmage.

“Please keep this strictly confidential,” I said in a near whisper.

The mare blinked, then nodded slowly.

“A stallion. With a deep, resonant, powerful voice.”

There was only a moment’s pause as the Archmage digested my request, before she turned back to the device, her magic aura flashing several times. The device reassembled itself in short order, and she floated it back to me, the communicator hovering before my eyes.

“Try it out.”

I blinked, then approached slowly, speaking into the magic aura that surrounded the device.

“I am Shadow Song.”

From the aura came an echo of my words, in a voice that was unmistakably not my own. It was masculine as could be, soft yet powerful, commanding a sense of awe and mystery with a resonance that seemed to quake the floor.

“Whoa, that’s intense,” came the Archmage’s surprised response as the echo faded away. “Maybe I should tone it down a tiny—“

“NO!” I shouted into the aura, before clapping my hooves to my ears as the room thundered with the overwhelming timbre of the amplified voice, causing the windows to rattle ominously.

Oops.

As it faded away, I quickly snatched the device out of her telekinetic field. “Aha, so sorry about that.”

“Oof.” The Archmage shuddered as she recovered. “That’s, ah, that’s quite alright. Are you sure that will work for you?”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect. Exactly what I was hoping for.”

She smiled at me. “Well then, if that’s the case, I guess you’re all set!”

I stared at the device for a moment, impressed by how she produced such a perfect result in so little time. “Is that… is that all there is to it? Nothing more needs to be done? How did you do that so quickly?”

“Ahaha, well, I’ve been working on a voice modulation spell for a friend of mine in my spare time. Diplomatic stuff, ya know?” Another nervous little chuckle from the Archmage. “Though this was the first time I’ve ever actually gotten to use it outside of that case, and most certainly the first time I’ve ever tried to make a mare sound like a stallion.”

“That’s… somehow, that’s incredibly fortuitous.”

“No kidding!” She leaned back against her desk, clearly basking in the success of her little experiment. “I’m actually a little surprised the end result was so convincing. I doubt anypony would even suspect that this wasn’t really your voice.”

“Indeed. It’s everything I could have hoped for and more.” I tucked the device into my saddlebag. “Thank you, Archmage.”

“Of course. I’m glad to help.”

“If there’s anything I could do to recompense you for your time…?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” She waved a hoof. “It’s no trouble, not for a nice young filly like you.”

“Still, I’d like to do something, if possible.” I pondered for a moment, trying to think of ways I could maintain my connection with this mare. Having the Royal Archmage of Equestria in one’s pocket could certainly be useful in the future. “How about I treat you to dinner the next time I’m in Canterlot? It’s such a shame that we’ve only just met, and I feel like I’ve barely gotten to know you.”

Her smile softened. “That would be lovely. I’ll hold you to it then.” She stood from her cushion and raised a hoof, which I reached out to bump.

And, suddenly, I found myself wrapped in her embrace, strands of violet mane cascading around me, and a soft voice whispering into my ear.

“Never forget, my little pony, that you are your own mare. Don’t ever lose sight of that. Don’t let the world dictate who you are, or who you want to be.”

...

That was unexpected.

I honestly had no idea how to respond to her unexpected change in demeanor, nor the words themselves. I had no reservations about my personal identity, or my place in the world.

But, I suppose, my requests to the Archmage had made it seemed as such. So I merely did what I did best: I played along.

“…I appreciate that, Arch— Miss Twilight. Thank you. I will certainly take your words to heart.”

“Glad to hear it.” She freed me from her embrace, and began leading me back to the door. “It’s certainly been a pleasure, Silver. Thanks for the distraction. I think it helped clear my head a little bit.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Twilight.” I bowed slightly. “Thank you for all your help, and I wish you good fortune in your duties to the Crown.”

“Heh. I’ll certainly need it.” She opened the door. “Safe journeys.”

“And you as well.”

As I descended the stairwell towards the exit, I could not help but feel a sense of overwhelming relief; that my problem had been so appropriately addressed, and that I was finally able to extricate myself from that mare’s incessant chattering.

Stepping out into the quickly-darkening streets of Ponyville, I turned in the direction of my home without another moment’s hesitation.

After all, I had a date with destiny.

9. Strange Suspect

“One day in the Crucible tells you
everything you need to know about a Crusader.
Even yourself.”
—NOYB Mark

S W E E T I E B E L L E

No. Way.

It was one of Eternity’s developers! In the flesh!

Well, okay, not really in the flesh, since this was a video game and all, but oh my Stars it was one of Eternity’s developers!

“I’ve been following you ever since your world-first clear of the Infinite Citadel,” said the mare named Prosperity, taking off her tricorn hat as she slowly approached us. ”And I’m really impressed. You guys are some of the best players I’ve ever seen in our game.”

To say I was shaking in my boots was an understatement. This was one of the creators of the game, and she was complimenting us. That was like Sapphire Shores praising your cover of her song! Or, or—

“Soooo cooooool!”exclaimed Button Mash, which elicited a giggle from the mare, and a groan from me because seriously Button, when do you not embarrass the socks off all of us, ever.

“You are too gracious, Miss Prosperity,” said Stranger to my right. “Thank you for your kind words.”

And thank you, Stranger, for clearly still being in control of your faculties while I’m over here freaking the Sun out.

“They’re well-deserved,” she said with a smile. “You’re consistently on the top of the Crucible leaderboards. After today’s battle, I can see why. You have a stellar team dynamic.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all Dovetail here!” said Freya with a wide, hawkish grin, her arm still wrapped around my neck. “Fearless leader and her ragtag team of misfits!”

“Ah, yes. Dovetail.” Miss Prosperity nodded her head towards me. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Oh Stars, she’s talking to me, whaddoisay?!

“The pleasure’s fine— I mean, mine.”

Smooth, Sweetie Belle. But if she noticed the slip-up, she made no indication.

“I’ll be honest, I expected you to be…” She pondered for a moment. “Taller?”

“She’s actually shorter in real life!” piped a nasally voice to my left.

Plonk.

“Mmrrgrhgph!” blurbed a significantly less-nasally and hoof-muzzled voice to my left.

“Hehehaaa, don’t mind my friend here,” I giggled nervously. “He’s so very, uh… frank.”

“I can see that,” hummed Miss Prosperity. “Out of curiosity, how old are you two?”

“Um.” That’s kind of a private question, isn’t it?

“Pleah!” spat Button. “I’m twelve, and Dovetail’s thirtee—”

Plonk.

“I see.” She stepped closer, appraising us once more. “That’s certainly very… surprising. I hadn’t expected you two to be so young.”

I couldn’t help but wonder where this line of questioning was going.

“Sorry, but, um, why do you need to know?”

“Oh, forgive me,” she replied with an apologetic smile. “It has to do with why I’m here, and before I get to that, I suppose I should explain exactly what it is I do at Mythic. While I do help make the game, I’m also part of the marketing team. Now that the game has been out on the market for quite some time, I’ve picked up a new hat: community manager.”

“I’ve not heard of such a profession before,” thought Stranger aloud.

“It’s certainly not what I had in mind when I joined the company,” she replied with a shrug. “After all, it’s only truly come around within the last couple years.”

“Ah yes, the Stratonet,” thought Stranger aloud. “It certainly has changed a great many things.”

Miss Prosperity nodded in agreement. “More and more ponies in Equestria are using it to gather and socialize with other ponies who have common interests—Eternity being one of them. My job as community manager is to interact with and engage those ponies.”

“And other races too?” grumbled Freya. “Like, you know, gryphons?”

“And gryphons too, of course,” she said placidly. “Though, admittedly, I’ve never met a gryphon before, which isn’t surprising, considering the… situation. But if they were present, I would attempt to engage them all the same. They are our loyal fans and supporters, after all.”

Freya's beak jawed for a few seconds, apparently having lost its words.

“So, crowd-sourced advertising, then,” quipped Button in the ensuing silence. “I dunno if I’d call that new. You’re basically getting your fans excited so they can help spread the word about the game. Except you’re doing it on the Stratonet, instead of in real life.”

Wow, Button. That was actually… a pretty acute observation. Apparently Miss Prosperity thought so too, if her widening eyes was any indication. “Dovetail certainly wasn’t wrong about your frankness. But yes, that’s essentially what it is.” She sighed heavily. “Though, all things considered, a lot of the ponies who interact online, well… they mostly just stay online. And that doesn’t really help get the word out, unfortunately.”

“Probably because a lot of ponies don’t want to admit they play video games,” I grumbled.

“Are you one of those ponies?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I used to be.” And that turned out oh-so wonderfully, didn’t it.

“What changed?”

“And why exactly do you want to know?”

“Dove, you don’t need to snap at her,” Button rebuked.

“I’m not snapping at her!”

“You kind of are, kid,” remarked Freya with a pointed talon.

Okay, fine! So what if I am?! This week hasn’t exactly been the best for me, and all of you know exactly why!

…Well, all except one.

“…You’re right,” I admitted with a sigh, then struggled to meet Miss Prosperity’s eyes. “I’m really sorry, you didn’t deserve that. It’s just been… kind of a rough week because of that.”

“I… see. I take it things didn’t go very well?”

Well, I was made a laughingstock of my entire class, got in a hoof-fight with another filly, and got suspended from school, so…

“To say the least,” I finished lamely.

“I understand. My apologies, it was wrong of me to presume. I was merely curious to know what made you decide to make yourself known, since it might have been something I could use to help other ponies do the same.”

“Heh. Nah, I doubt that, unless I’m not the only one who got slapped with a cutie mark for it.”

She blinked. “That’s… wait, what? I’m sorry, did I hear you right? You got a cutie mark for playing Eternity?”

“Well… yeah. A video gaming cutie mark. Earlier this week, for the Theralon kill.”

A moment passed, during which something seemed to go off inside Miss Prosperity’s head—her mouth hung agape, and she stared at me like I was some kind of otherworldly ghost. No surprises there—I’d have felt the same way too, in her place, considering the only word that could truly describe the situation was—

“Amazing,” she finally breathed.

…Uh no, wrong A-word. I was thinking more along the lines of ‘absurd’. Or maybe ‘asinine’. Or maybe just ‘ass’. Get it? Because cutie marks and flanks and stuff! Heh. …Eh.

“That’s amazing,” she spoke again, this time louder, her excitement growing as she stepped closer, grabbing my hoof with hers and shaking it wildly. “Congratulations, Dovetail, that’s incredible! Amazing! Awesome! I can’t believe it! By the Sun and Stars, wait until the rest of the studio hears, I—”

“Please don’t,” I groaned.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she fixed me with a serious gaze, like she had never been so certain of anything else in her life. “But why not? They must know!”

“Why?!” Why does everypony need to know about this thing that I didn’t even ask for?!

“Can’t you see?” she implored, eyes glimmering. “Never in my years working for this company did any of us think that something we made would help a filly get her cutie mark!”

“Something to be very proud of indeed,” remarked Stranger. “To play such an instrumental role in a filly’s coming-of-age? I can scarcely imagine a higher honor.”

“Exactly!” agreed Miss Prosperity, nodding furiously like a bobblehead in an earthquake.

…Well, I guess when you put it that way, it is kind of cool.

“Okay, fine, I guess you can… tell ponies, or whatever,” I conceded in resignation. “Just… keep it to them, please?”

“I will! Thank you! Oh, this is so exciting!” She giggled like a schoolfilly. Not like me, but more like, you know, those Niponi schoolfillies. It was almost like her entire personality had changed with the flick of a switch upon learning of this revelation. Which would have been hilarious and a little flattering and all, if the revelation had been anything but this.

“And I’m glad to hear it,” I said patiently, putting a hoof on hers. “But we’re kind of straying from the topic. I’m still not sure, exactly, what you wanted to speak with us about.”

“Yes,” came Zaid’s voice as he stepped forward. “You mention an offer? Very curious.”

“Oh!” Her face scrunched up, and she quickly composed herself. “Oh, right. I’m terribly sorry. Ahem. Yes, I did. Though it’s less of an offer, and more of an invitation.”

An invitation? “To what?”

“Well, er. Hmm. How do I put this.” She shuffled anxiously, her face scrunching up as she apparently sought for words.

Weird. Miss Prosperity was… nervous? Did our roles suddenly get reversed, or something?

“Okay, um, this is somewhat a last minute affair,” she declared suddenly, straightening up. “You know how earlier, I said I wanted our fans to be more active beyond the Stratonet?”

We nodded slowly.

“Well, I figured, what better way to make that happen than to throw a big party?”

…Huh? “A… party?”

“Yes, some sort of large event for all of our fans to meet up with each other in real life.”

Well, uh, alrighty then, not-Pinkie Pie, that can’t possibly blow up in your face at all.

“So, basically,” Freya said with a disbelieving smirk, “you’re asking a bunch of sheltered shut-ins to go out and socialize with each other over something they might be embarrassed by? Yeah, uh, that sounds like it could backfire.”

Yeah pretty much my thoughts exactly. “It does sound a little… counterintuitive, to be marketing a party to a bunch of introverts.”

“Really, now?” Miss Prosperity quirked an eyebrow. “Are all of you sheltered, introverted shut-ins?”

…Touché.

“Besides, it won’t just be like any party,” she assured us. “It’ll be an Eternity party. Sure, it’ll have all the usual fixings, like food and music, but it’ll also have game consoles set up, so ponies can play Eternity with each other, and fan-artists doing live commissions for ponies, and—”

“That sounds so cool!” exclaimed Button, jumping up in excitement. “I’m super down!”

Wait, what? This actually sounded like a good idea to you?!

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, trying to pick my words carefully so as to not offend Miss Prosperity. “Playing Eternity together? We can already do that at home over the Stratonet.”

I immediately felt somewhat guilty as a slight crestfallen look began to creep into the mare’s features.

“Aw, c’mon Dove, playing at home isn’t really the same,” Button pointed out. “I mean, we invite each other over to play games together all the time. It’s just more fun in person.”

“I imagine having the games there would help everypony break the ice with each other as well,” added Stranger. “It’d anchor them to something familiar, despite the unusual environment.”

“Yes! Yes, you both get it!” grinned Miss Prosperity enthusiastically. “And I didn’t even mention the tournament!”

“Tournament?”

“The centerpiece of the event!” she exclaimed, eyes turning skyward and glittering like the morning dew on a sunny day. “A huge tournament, where the best of the best from all walks of life, coming together to compete with and against each other, to see who truly dominates the Crucible! Lights! Fog machines! Explosions!”

I watched in awe as this mare, who only minutes ago intimidated me with her sheer presence, had suddenly become an excitable ball of sleeve-worn hopes and dreams within the span of a single conversation.

It was adorable, and I giggled out loud.

At that, she suddenly froze, balancing on a single hoof midway through a pirouette as she was attempting to demonstrate I don’t even know what, and a blush swept over her features with the force of a tidal wave. She quickly righted herself, reassuming her serious posture and staring at the floor intently.

“Yes, ahem.” She re-donned the tricorn hat, likely to cover her reddening ears. “Well. Ahem.” They popped out through the holes that all pony hats have. “Anyways. Ahem...”

It didn’t seem like she’d get a grip on herself anytime soon, so I spoke up first, in hopes of re-railing the conversation.

“Listen, this sounds super cool and all,” I ventured cautiously, “but… why tell us about it? Where do we come in?”

“I suspect she means to invite us,” supplied Stranger. “After all, she did mention an invitation.”

“That’s what I had in mind, yes,” she nodded, straightening her hat and looking at us once more. “I wanted to formally invite you, the members of Sanctuary to attend the event in Manehattan as our guests of honor.”

“…Guests of honor?” I asked incredulously, unsure of what that entailed.

She nodded seriously. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been making a lot of waves online. From your exploits in the Vault of Glass, to your continued domination of the Crucible leaderboards, everypony has heard tell of your exploits, and is singing the praises of the most-accomplished fireteam that Eternity has ever seen thus far.”

“You mean we’re famous?!” cried Button Mash gleefully.

“Whatever qualifies for ‘famous’ in our community, you’re certainly it,” she replied with a wink. “As it stands, it would be an utter privilege to have you attend. Especially you, Miss Dovetail.”

Manehattan, huh…

“And it’s Saturday?”

“That’s right, two days from now. I’m really sorry it’s such a last minute invitation, but I had only come up with the idea of inviting Sanctuary earlier today. If you have other plans already…”

“No, no, I’m… pretty much free all weekend.”

“Then why not?” she said with a smile. “The only thing I would need at this point is express permission from Smash’s guardian, since he’s underage.”

“I can get that easy-peasy,” he grinned. “Mom would be totally down for this.”

I sighed.

“I don’t know,” I admitted after a momentary silence. “It sounds like a lot of fun, and I’d really like to go, but… I’m not sure if we can afford the trip right now.”

“Sweetie, isn’t your sister going to Manehattan?” asked Button.

“She is,” I nodded at him. “But can she afford to take me along? I’d have to pay for my own travel and such. And it’s not like she’s going just for fun—she has an important job interview. She can’t just follow me around the city and babysit me all day.”

“If money is an issue,” interjected Miss Prosperity, “Mythic Incorporated is more than willing to cover the full cost of transit and lodging.”

I blinked at that. “Are you sure?”

“Without question. The event is being thrown by my company, after all, and those expenses are a part of our marketing budget. We calculated the potential as soon as I got the idea, and they fell well within reasonable expectations.” She turned to the rest of my team. “Naturally, this offer is extended to all of you in turn. Full transit and lodging, from anywhere in Equestria. In fact…” A holoscreen popped up before her, and she began navigating around the interface, the contents of which were obscured to us. “Let me pull up your registration records right now, so I can see where you ponies would be riding out from.”

“Ah, well, heh, see, there’s just a tiny problem with that,” started Freya, eyeing the mare. “I’m pretty sure if I tried to cross the border, I’d get shot on sight.”

“Border?” A perplexed look overcame Miss Prosperity’s face. “Why, whatever do you—“

A new window appeared, instantly giving her pause.

“Current residence: Liimes Equus, Autumnus Praetoria, Gryphos?!”

“Ehehehe, yeaaah,” she grinned sheepishly. “Like I said, kinda impossible. Unless you know a way through the DMZ that doesn’t involve getting blown to pieces by mines or flak.”

“Sun smite me, I’m so sorry,” she stammered apologetically. “Usually most gryphons in the game are still Equestrian players, I didn’t realize…”

“Nah, it’s cool,” she shrugged in reply. “I… kinda get that all the time.”

“I… see. Well, that’s a shame,” she said with a sad smile that looked genuinely sincere. “I would have loved to meet a gryphon in person. We actually used to have a Gryphosi consultant on our team, helped us nail down a lot of the cultural expression, but he left shortly before I joined…” She began flipping through windows. “Ponyville… Ponyville… Saddle Arabia?!”

“Ah, that’s me,” grunted Zaid. “I am a long way from Equestria. Cannot come, even if I want to.”

“Stars, that’s such a long ways away!” Swipe. “And this one is… blacked out?”

“A gag order, yes,” clarified Stranger, stepping forward. “If you’ll read the attached documents…”

A gag order—?

“Due to the escalation of national defense readiness to a critical alert status, as prompted by the expectation of potential hostilities by belligerent factions,” recited Miss Prosperity, her eyes widening with each word, “any Equestrian citizen considered critical to national security is under legal obligation to conceal all details of their identity, including name, current residence, etcetera etcetera, upon registration to any private or public service…”

“…as decreed by Executive Authority of the Principality of Equestria,” Stranger finished with a flourish of her hoof.

“Whoa,” whispered Button.

…

Wait, what?! Critical to national security? Authority of Equestria?!

I whirled around to Stranger, bewildered. After all this time, we only now learn that Stranger was some kind of… government-protected secret?! Suddenly, my mind was alight with possibilities, wondering as to her true identity. An ambassador or diplomat? An important soldier, like a general? Maybe even a spy?!

Demanding answers from my friend, I attempted to express my current flabbergasted state of mind by condensing the implications behind all of these outrageous likelihoods into a profound series of verbal utterances:

“Buh— wha— how— what.”

Very profound.

And yet, and yet, the mare in question gave nothing more than a knowing wink.

“Apologies, little Dove. My identity is, unfortunately, a highly-classified state secret.”

...

Error. Sweetie Belle has stopped responding.

“It’s rather much less impressive than it seems,” she added with a shrug, probably noticing my current condition of how the hay even. “A great many ponies were placed under the gag order, ever since… well, since border tensions with Gryphos began escalating.” She glanced at Freya. “Specifically for situations like this, where there was potential for intermingling. Apologies, Freya.”

“Nah, it’s cool, I get it all the—“ Freya paused, her eyes bugging out. “Actually, no, this one’s new. So yeah. Beware, evil mean lowly gryphon grunt shall steal all your state secrets!” She hissed menacingly at Stranger, who merely giggled in response.

“Dovetail, I must say,” said Miss Prosperity in an awestruck voice, and we all turned back to face her, “you’ve managed to gather a diverse team of incredibly colorful individuals.”

“It looks like I have,” I replied, sharing her incredulity.

“All I can ask is… how?”

“Beats me,” I admitted, recomposing myself. “First day I met Stranger, she looked hopelessly lost, so I asked her if she needed help.”

“I believe you once compared me to a ‘cute old granny trying to cross a busy intersection’,” she dictated, causing Miss Prosperity to snicker.

“Yeah, well,” I continued, pointedly ignoring her, “as for the others, I always got on well with Zaid and Freya. They were always, you know, super-cool and stuff.”

“Awww, you’re making me blush,” teased Freya as she waved a wing in faux-embarrassment.

“It is fun times,” agreed Zaid. “Dovetail and friends are nice to me.”

“Pfft.” I waved a hoof. “You guys are awesome, why wouldn’t we be?”

“You’d be surprised,” Freya muttered ominously.

Before I had a chance to ask for her to elaborate, Miss Prosperity piped up quite suddenly.

“Ahem! Well then, now that that’s settled…” She shivered, probably to shake off all the bombshells that dropped within the last, like, ten minutes. “Unfortunately, I have some other matters to prepare for, so I need to be on my way quite soon. Stranger, should I presume that, in the interest of protecting your identity, you’re unable to attend?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the case,” she said with an apologetic bow of her head. “I do wish you luck, however. I’m sure the event will be a rousing success.”

“Very well. Hopefully next time!” Miss Prosperity turned back to us. “As for you two, I realize you’ll both likely have to speak to your parents about attending, and I understand if you haven’t quite made up your minds about—“

“You kidding?! I’m totally going!” interjected Button.

“Splendid!” she replied, clapping her hooves together.

They both turned expectantly to me, with Button practically giving me puppy-dog eyes. He wasn’t very good at it though—too much tension—so it ended up looking a lot less like Winona begging for a treat, and more like Opalescence attempting The Stare.

Which was far more frightening.

Ugh. Well, if Button’s going, I might as well. At least I won’t be alone.

“I guess I can talk to my sister Rarity to see if she’d be okay with me tagging along,” I conceded, tearing my eyes away from Button’s super-weird expression. “It sounds like fun, and it can’t really hurt to at least swing by and check it out.”

“That’s wonderful news!” grinned Miss Prosperity. “Then it’s settled! In the event that you can make it after all, I’ll stratocast the tickets to your local post offices this evening. A mailmare should have it on your doorsteps by noon tomorrow.”

“Works for me.”

“Awesome! LAN party!” Button threw out his hoof to mine, and I bumped it with a nervous chuckle, wondering just what in the hay I was getting myself into.

“I’ve also fired off a third ticket for your friend Shadow Song,” the mare continued, shutting off the holoscreens. “I have to get going very soon, so I won’t be able to extend the invitation myself, but if you could do so in my stead, I’d appreciate it!”

Huh. Well then. I had automatically categorized Shadow under the “unable to attend” category with Freya, Zaid, and Stranger, considering I had no idea where he lived. That, and… well, he was about as private regarding his identity as Stranger was. No doubt he’d want to protect that information just as much.

“I don’t know if he’ll be online tonight, but if he does show up, I’ll be sure to let him know,” I said with a nod. “I wouldn’t count on it though, to be honest.”

She quirked an eyebrow at this. “That works just as well, I suppose, though why not just explain the situation in person? You three live in Ponyville, after all.”

…Huh?

“Um, Shadow Song lives in Ponyville?” said a confused Button.

“Well no, not Shadow Song,” she replied, matching his confusion, “since that’s not the real name that’s registered with the account, but I’m sure you know who I—”

Suddenly she froze, and her eyes bugged out of her skull. As did mine. And my entire team’s.

“Uh-oh,” she mouthed silently. “Uh, somehow I get the feeling that I probably shouldn’t have—“

“Don’t worry about it,” I interrupted without hesitation, hoping to stave off any more potential surprises. “There’ve been a lot of, uh, unexpected surprises today, for both of us. Out of respect for Shadow Song’s privacy, I think it’s best we all steer perfectly clear of the subject. I’ll let him know the situation the next time he logs on, and if things turn out well, he’ll join us on the train out of Ponyville tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Err… yes, very good,” the mare replied, nodding frantically. “Excellent. Yes, yes, let’s just, ah… moving on!” Her armor transmatted around her. “Right, gotta go! Hope to see you all there! Well, not all of you, but you know what I mean!”

“Toodles!” Freya chirruped with a jolly wave of her wing.

With a burst of azure static, the mare disappeared into the ether.

There was a moment of silence, joined by naught but the whistling of the wind as our airship cruised through the skies.

“Uh, Sweetie Belle?” Button waved his hoof in front of my face. “You alright in there?”

“I think so? Yeah. Probably. Maybe.” I nodded very slowly, staring blankly at where the mare had only seconds ago been standing before us, nothing remaining except the residual static from her transmat. “Just give me a second. Or ten. Or a hundred. Or something. To process all of this stuff.”

“Need some space?” He backed away slowly.

“Actually, that’d be great,” I agreed, still staring straight ahead. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. Some space. I’d actually really like that right now. Uh, thanks.”

With that said, I flopped onto my back and began the long and involved process of freaking out.

10. Super Good Advice

“Reality is the most ruthless analyst.”
—Born of Sight

S I L V E R S P O O N

Luggage.

Upon arriving at my home, the first item of significance to enter my awareness was a veritable mountain of luggage standing just within our front gate. A sporadic trail of servants was weaving its way to and fro, ferrying more pieces to add to the growing pile.

Among that herd was my head servant, Mirror Sheen, who spotted me from the corner of his eye. After a few curt instructions to his lessers, he broke from his station and swiftly approached to receive me.

“Welcome home, Lady Silver,” he greeted with a sweeping bow, genial as always. “I trust your day went well?”

“A subject best avoided,” I responded impassively as I made towards the door, unconcerned with the servants flocking about. “Yours, on the other hoof, looked rather eventful.”

“All too present to be past tense,” he quipped, glancing momentarily behind him. “Much of today was spent coordinating Madame Sterling’s travel itinerary, but there’s still plenty of packing left to do, and other logistics to organize.”

Travel itinerary? “I wasn’t aware mother was planning another trip.”

“Indeed, to Hoofington. She has seen fit to directly oversee the mining operations there, in hopes that they can raise output to meet the rising demands of the Equestrian Defense Forces.”

“I see.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Mother was always disappearing for days or even weeks on end for some work reason or another, often leaving my sister and I behind at home. Though it was certainly unusual for her to not have at least informed me of the circumstances surrounding her trip—after all, she had been rather intent on instructing me in the management of the family metalworking empire, for whenever I was due to inherit the business.

Perhaps it was to be discussed over dinner. Which prompted the question…

“Will mother be joining us for supper tonight?” I asked my servant, ascending the stairs to my front door

“Madame Sterling made it very clear that we were to finish as many of our tasks as we could prior to sundown,” he explained as he held the door open for me, “so that she could spend the remainder of the evening with you and your sister prior to her departure.”

A story as likely as it was the myriad other times she told it.

“Very well.” I stepped over the threshold with a heavy sigh. “I suppose I’ll be retreating to my quarters ’til then.”

“Of course, Lady Silver. We shall summon you when dinner has been readied.”

If it is ever readied.

No matter. This was just another piece of unwelcome news in an already very unwelcome day.

But, at the very least, I had a distraction.

It only took a few moments for me to find Dovetail and Stranger, standing beside each other by the courtyard balcony overlooking the City. Dovetail leaned over the railing, while Stranger had a hoof on her shoulder. Neither uttered a word, simply gazing off into the distance as the sun began to set over the horizon.

Something seemed off.

“Hey,” I said, making my presence known, which caused Dovetail to visibly twitch. She did not turn to face me—though Stranger did.

“Good evening,” said the mare with a subtle bow of her head.

“Where’s everypony else?” I asked, glancing around for any sign of the others.

“Zaid and Freya are currently on an expedition to the Valhallan Wastes,” she explained. “Dovetail and I elected to stay behind, and Mash retired for the evening. Unfortunately, I shall be doing the same in a few moments.”

“This early? That’s unusual. You usually stay until around nightfall.”

“I do, yes,” she said with a nod, before turning to Dovetail, who was pointedly ignoring the conversation. “But, well… extenuating circumstances would suggest I withdraw early.”

I could do without the unnecessary vagaries. “Extenuating circumstances?”

“Dovetail's had an… interesting evening,” Stranger continued. “And I believe she’ll need your help to parse her thoughts, Shadow.”

Wonderful. Though Stranger seemed to be doing much to assuage whatever was troubling the filly, an agitated Dovetail was rarely a good sign.

“Will you be alright?” Stranger asked the filly in a motherly tone.

“Meh,” Dovetail meh’d.

The older mare glanced back at me with a helpless shrug, before giving Dovetail a reassuring nudge. “You’ll work things out soon, my little pony. Talk with Shadow. He’ll be far better-equipped to settle your nerves on the matter than I.”

Oh, yes, you’re certainly more than welcome to volunteer my time without my consent. It wasn’t as if I had logged on to seek respite from my own frustrations or anything of the sort. No, I most certainly expected to be spending my free time offering a comforting shoulder to a filly whose emotional range was more unpredictable than a yak prince’s.

Not that I would say that out loud, of course.

“She’s right, Dovetail,” I said softly, my masculine timbre cutting through the din of the Tower’s ambiance. “I’m here if you need anything.”

Stranger smiled, then stepped back with a bow of her head. “Then I shall be taking my leave. I hope she will be in good hooves with you.”

“She will be. Good evening.”

“Good evening.”

With a burst of ghostly static, Stranger transmatted away, leaving me alone with Dovetail on the balcony. Silently, I trotted up beside her and threw my forelegs over the railing, staring out towards the vast urban sprawl of the City before us.

No words were exchanged for nearly half a minute, which was not uncommon between us. Over the past few months, Dovetail and I had gotten comfortable enough with each other’s presence that even a dead silence wasn’t awkward or offensive.

Still, I idly wondered what had her so agitated. And, judging by her silence, she did not seem keen on telling me.

My eyes wandered to Dovetail, whose gaze never strayed from the sunset. As I stared down at the smaller pony, I found myself taking stock in how differently we had approached our characters.

Here was I, a tall, dark-skinned umbra stallion with an imposing muscular build and rather exotic features that exuded an air of otherworldly strength, only barely kept in check. I had even gone through the trouble of changing my voice, with the assistance of the Archmage, to a gruff, masculine purr, one that would far better suit a hypothetical "Prince" Luna—her Grace forgive the analogy—than it would myself.

In all, there was absolutely no resemblance between the filly Silver Spoon and the stallion Shadow Song. I was the complete inverse of my in-game counterpart in almost every conceivable way.

On the other hand, Sweetie Belle’s character was much closer to her own self. Though Dovetail was subtly more lithe—eschewing her creator’s modestly shapely curves in favor of a more limber athletic figure—she still maintained a petite build that wasn’t all that bigger than the filly in reality. Similarly, her coat was a pristine white—not quite the muted gray of Sweetie Belle’s own, or even that of her sister’s, but close.

The resemblances ended there. She had curiously elected to create an earth pony—no horn interrupted the frazzled mess that was her mane, its dual yellow-and-crimson tones a far cry from the filly’s gentle, flowing shades of pink. And all of this was accentuated by brilliant blue irises, sharp and intense as lightning.

While I would have described Sweetie Belle as having a soft, inoffensive, cutesy appearance… Dovetail was undeniably fierce.

…Yet, despite that dichotomy, there were enough similarities that anypony familiar with the filly could barely mistake Dovetail for anypony else. The two identities were likely a mere perm-and-dye job away from being a natural evolution of each other.

Such a curious design for a character had set my mind abuzz, speculating over what could have informed all of those decisions, and I found myself wondering if there was an answer to be found in the depths of those vibrant blue eyes.

Which were currently staring back at me, eyebrows raised.

“Something on my face?” she spoke, for the first time all evening.

My expression did not falter. “No, Dovetail. Your face is fine.”

“Why were you staring so hard?” It was clear I had set her at unease.

“Your character has an interesting design,” I answered honestly. “I was noticing your mane’s resemblance to one of the Wonderbolts.”

“Spitfire?”

“Yes. Though your colors are more vivid than hers.”

“Yeah, hers is more like an out-of-control wildfire,” she said, turning back to the view while idly hoofing at an errant strand of mane. “Or maybe like a sunset.”

“An apt comparison.”

The silence returned as swiftly as it had left, and she seemed no closer to revealing what had her so on edge. In fact, her demeanor was surprisingly relaxed… if her idly pawing at my leathery wings was any indicator.

“You have an interesting character too,” the filly remarked as she did so. “Are you actually an umbra?”

I gave the webbed appendages a ruffle. “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, turning back to the sunset. “Umbrae are rare in Equestria, so that would be a long shot in the dark.”

“Yeah.”

“What made you pick an umbra?”

“They’re mysterious.”

“That’s all?”

“Fierce. Cunning. Resourceful. Stealthy.”

“Hm. You know, that might not actually be true of umbrae. Maybe that’s just how they look.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Heh.” She chuckled a bit, then turned to me with a grin. “I’ll bet they’re all super-cheerful party animals. Like Pinkie Pie!”

That was a rather… specific comparison. “Pinkie Pie?”

Her eyes twitched for a moment, before she let out a dismissive laugh. “Heh, uh, sorry. One of my sister’s friends. You probably don’t know her.”

“I… see.”

“So have you ever met an umbra before?”

“Yes. Once.”

“Really? How?”

“Princess Luna visited my hometown several years back. She had a small complement of umbra as her personal security detail.”

“Oh hey, I remember that!” she exclaimed, perking up with an expectant look. “It was that one time she came by for Nightmare Night, right?”

…That was twice now that she had said something overly-familiar. Yes, Nightmare Night was precisely the reason why the Princess had been in Ponyville, but Sweetie Belle couldn’t possibly have known we were referencing the same event… or that I had even been in Ponyville to witness it.

“It had not been around that time of year, so I don’t believe it was for Nightmare Night,” I lied easily, making a show of raising my eyebrows.

“Oh, I see,” she said casually, as if her curiosity had been sated. In fact, I would have believed it myself… had it not been for that subtle twitch of her eye.

If it wasn’t clear before, it was now: she was manipulating me, phrasing her sentences to goad me into providing a specific answer. And that time, she hadn’t gotten the answer she wanted.

I had no idea what she was trying to do, nor what she wanted to ask, nor what it had to do with her strange behavior, or even why any of this mattered. But this was my game. And I fully intended to beat her at it.

“Those are rather specific circumstances,” I remarked, highlighting the cause of my confusion.

A moment of pause as she considered my words. “Yeah, I guess they were. The only time I’ve ever really met her was when she visited Ponyville for Nightmare Night, so I assumed…”

An assumption? No, more like a shoddy attempt at an excuse. “She’s a Princess, Dovetail. She likely has duties to attend to all over the nation. It doesn’t always have to be about festivities.”

“Yeah, good point,” she said with a sigh. “So what was her visit about, then?”

I could devise a story, but if it had any holes… better to stay on the safe side.

“Their visit didn’t concern me, so I wasn’t privy to the specifics,” I explained as vaguely as I could.

A raised eyebrow. “You don’t sound very excited about it.”

“The affairs of politicians do not particularly concern me.”

Widened eyes. “Politicians? They’re not just politicians, they’re the Princesses! They run the entire country! They’re the highest law in the land! They control the sun and moon!”

“And how, exactly, is that relevant to me?” I rebutted. “I appreciate the Princesses and what they do for us and our nation, but their business is their own, and I’m not involved in it.”

“But— but it’s the Princesses!” she sputtered. “They’re— I just— you didn’t even wanna meet them or say hi?!”

“The last thing they need when they’re trying to get things done is a crowd of adoring fans trying to catch their attention.”

She blinked at that. “I… yeah, I guess that makes sense.” She looked as though she were contemplating something. “Did it maybe have something to do with the city itself? Maybe she was meeting with the mayor. Where was this all taking—“

She froze, as if she had said something she hadn’t intended to.

Unfortunately for her, that made her intentions abundantly clear.

“Dovetail,” I growled as the pieces began falling into place, “why are you trying to figure out where I live?”

Her pupils shrunk, panic overcoming her features. “I, er, I’m not—“

“I see what you’re trying to do,” I snapped. “And that last line made it clear as day. You want to know where I’m from, and you’ve been twisting your questions in hopes that I would let it slip.”

Her ears flattened. She tried to speak, but no words came out—I had hit the nail on the head.

But that wasn’t enough. I needed to know why. Which meant a little guilt-tripping was in order.

“I thought we had reached a certain understanding,” I groused. “You know very well that I value my privacy, and I figured you would have enough sense to respect that. Apparently I was wrong.”

“That’s— that’s not true, Shadow!” she stammered, leaping forward. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to— I mean—”

I whirled on her, hoping to impress the full force of my character’s imposing physique. “Wanted. To. What?”

She gulped visibly, but said nothing. I decided now was the time for answers.

“Dovetail, you’ve been acting strange all evening, and it’s starting to frustrate me that you won’t just be straight about it. Something obviously happened before I logged on, and it’s clear that Stranger is in on it too. Why did she say that I was the only one who could help you deal with the situation? And how in all the Stars does where I live have anything to do with it?”

A pause. A nervous scratch of the hoof. Then, slowly, her features relaxed.

“Promise me you won’t be mad?” she asked.

So it was something that would make me mad. Good to know. “I’m afraid I can make no such promise, Dovetail.”

Her features visibly strained. Nonetheless, she took a deep breath, and began to explain.

“A mare named Prosperity contacted us about an hour ago. She said she was a developer for Eternity. She’s throwing some kind of event in Manehattan tomorrow. An Eternity party, with a big tournament. And she really, really wanted us to attend.”

A tournament? How very curious. “By us, I assume you mean Sanctuary?”

“Yeah. Obviously Zaid and Freya can't, since they live outside of the country, and Stranger already said she won’t able to attend either, for… her own reasons. So that leaves just me, you, and Mash. Since you weren’t online, she wanted me to extend the invitation to you on her behalf. All expenses paid, including train tickets. She sent three to the addresses that we gave the company when we registered for Eternity. Miss Ditzy Doo will be delivering them to our doorsteps tomorrow morning.”

…

“Miss Ditzy Doo,” I deadpanned.

She nodded.

“Our doorsteps.”

Another nod.

…Oh dear.

Dovetail wasn’t trying to figure out my hometown.

She already knew.

“This mare told you I lived in Ponyville,” I hissed, “didn’t she.”

“…Yeah.”

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

I heaved a great sigh, staring out towards the distant sun as it finally set over the horizon.

“Dovetail, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be mad,” I began to explain. “But this? All these mental gymnastics, just to get me to admit that I live in Ponyville? Why didn’t you just tell me that she let it slip? I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“I don’t know!” she admitted, clearly apologetic. “I guess I just wanted to get you to admit it yourself, so you could reveal that information on your own terms.”

“Trying to trick me into admitting it isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘on my own terms’, Dovetail.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” she implored, before averting her gaze to the floor. “I guess… I guess part of me just wished that you would.”

A moment of silence…

“I mean… to think,” she continued, clear hesitation in her voice, “that you lived in Ponyville, all this time?”

…

“And on top of that, you didn’t trust me enough to tell me…?”

Oh dear.

“That’s not it at all,” I tried to reassure her.

“Then what is it?” she suddenly snapped, rounding on me, her expression pained.

“My reasons are my own—”

“And you can’t trust me with them?!” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes. “Shadow, I thought you were my friend!”

“I am—!”

“THEN WHO ARE YOU?!”

Her roar was deafening, echoing across the Tower courtyard and causing several heads to turn.

I barely noticed. She had asked the question that I thought I’d never have to answer.

“Dovetail, listen,” I began, quickly raising a privacy bubble around us to deter prying ears. “Who I am doesn’t matter—“

“Yes it does!” she shouted, now weeping openly and pointing a shaking hoof straight at me. “How could you say something so inconsiderate?! Do you realize what this means for me?”

“Look, it’s not—“

“All this time, you told me you wanted me to respect your privacy, and I did!” she sobbed, her tone a mixture of confusion and rage. “Yet, without my knowing, I haven’t had any this whole time! You know exactly who I am, because I don’t hide any of it, and Button says my real name like ten times a day! We live in the same town! You've probably met me, and I had no idea! Do you see what’s wrong with this picture? Do you see why this is a problem?!”

“Dovetail, I do, but—“

“I have absolutely no clue who you are, and yet you could be anyone in my life!”

At that last utterance, I found myself at a loss for words. All I could do was stare into her tear-stained, electric blue eyes, which bore into my own with a ferocious intensity that felt as though it were piercing through all of my lies, my secrets, every deception, every misdirection.

Everything I had worked to maintain was falling apart. And I couldn’t think of anything to say that could fix it.

“I’ve told you things about myself that I would never tell anyone else,” she whispered, her voice hollow, “because I had no idea that you could be somepony I knew. You could be the cashier at Barnyard Bargains. Or a guardsmare working at the station. Or a weatherpony on the weather team. I could be walking past you every day, and I wouldn’t even know…”

Suddenly, her face went pale.

“What if my parents were right?” she whispered, shaking with fear. “What if you’re… you’re a ped—“

“No.”

She froze.

“Dovetail,” I said, stepping forward; she shied back instantly, eyes alight with panic. “I promise you, by the Grace of all the Sun and Stars in the sky, I am not that.”

A few moments passed as she digested my assertion, undoubtedly trying to evaluate it for truthfulness. Eventually, she looked up, and her gaze had steeled.

“Then what are you?”

“I…”

I didn’t know.

For once in my life, I didn’t know.

My life was one I lived with intent. Everything had a purpose, a reason, a goal. There was always an end result in sight, one I could pursue with a clear plan in mind. And I was always, always in control.

But this? This was a problem I had not a single clue how to solve, and the mere notion left me paralyzed with indecision.

When I first joined this game, it was to infiltrate Sweetie Belle’s life, to vex her in one of the few sanctuaries she believed safe. Over time, it evolved into an opportunity to become familiar with the filly, perhaps discover things that I could one day employ against her.

And had she revealed oh so very much to me. Guilt over her struggles in school. Anxiety over her graduation. Admiration towards her sister. Jealousy towards her talented friends and their certainty over their futures. Even the barest slivers of doubt about her romantic prospects, to which she swore having never spoken about to anypony else in her life.

I had yet to use any of it. The time had never been right, and as the months passed, I had wondered if there would ever be a right time.

So what was there left to do? I couldn’t maintain this relationship, at least not with my anonymity intact. The status quo had been irreparably damaged, and Sweetie Belle would never trust me the same way again, no matter what I tried.

…Was there even a point to trying? I had learned all I needed, more than I ever expected, and this relationship could bear no further fruits. I could quit the game, abandon my secret identity, and return to my normal life. Was there anything left that I could even hope to achieve by maintaining appearances?

No matter how many times I asked the question, in all its countless permutations… my mind supplied a blank.

Yet, somewhere in its deepest, darkest recesses… there was something curious. A nagging urge to try and salvage the relationship, in any way possible. It seemed ambivalent to the apparent lack of an outcome that could benefit me.

…

No.

There was a purpose. There was intent. There was a piece of myself on the line.

My pride.

Sweetie Belle may be the better gamer. But this? This was my game.

“Shadow…?” implored Dovetail, drawing my attention once more. “Shadow, please… say something. Anything.”

I let out a heavy sigh, then locked eyes with her.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I…” she jawed for a few moments, her tone filled with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know. I just want answers. Why did you do this? What do you want from me?” She visibly shuddered. “Are you going to… hurt me?”

“Absolutely not, Dovetail,” I declared with finality, hoping that my tone would brook no argument. “Whatever you may think of me now, whomever you might imagine me to be, I can assure you that you are in no danger of physical harm.”

“If not, then why?” she pleaded, with manic eyes. “How much do you know about me? Do you know where I live?”

“Yes. You’re Sweetie Belle, a schoolfilly that lives in a boutique not far from the city center, and owned by your sister, Miss Rarity. I’ve been inside on several occasions.”

She gulped. “…How far away do you live?”

“Not far. I’m a few districts over.”

Her eyes widened hopefully. “Are you one of my friends?”

“No.”

They shrank instantly. “Then how am I supposed to trust you? How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“I… suppose you can’t,” I admitted. “But if it means anything, I never, ever intended to approach you, much less hurt you. I never planned to introduce myself, reveal who I was, or do anything to compromise my identity. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a filly that I play games with online, and occasionally see trotting around during my day-to-day. I would have been perfectly satisfied with living the rest of my life apart from yours.”

“I… I see,” she said. Slowly, she recovered her composure. “…Why?”

“...It’s complicated.”

“Well, we have all night,” she persisted. “And… I think you owe me some answers. I’ve told you a lot of things about myself, things that nopony else knows, yet sometimes it feels like I’m pulling my teeth with you. The absolute least you could do is throw me a bone.”

“I…”

“Please, Shadow,” she implored. “You want my trust, and I’m trying really, really hard to give it to you. But trust is a two-way street. I can’t trust you if you won’t trust me.”

A memory surged forth, unbidden. A library. Strands of purple mane. A whispered reassurance.

A partial truth was still the truth, right?

“I… just didn’t want anypony to know I played video games,” I admitted. “I didn’t want there to be any link between myself and others who might reveal this secret.”

“I… I see,” she said. “But… you know you can trust me, right?”

“Yes, Dovetail, I know, and I do. But not with this. This is just too risky. I could lose everything if anypony ever found out, and it’s easier just knowing for absolute certain that nopony knows. Not even you.”

She blinked, then glanced down at her hooves again. A few tense moments passed as she pondered my admission.

“I… guess I can understand that,” she finally said. “After all, I’ve been there. Heh… though you probably already knew that.”

“…Yes.”

“Why is it such a problem for you though?” she asked. “You’re a stallion. I don’t think ponies would care.”

A fair point. “I’m in a position where any single piece of dirt, no matter how supposedly trivial, could tarnish my reputation forever.”

“…I see.” She did not seem convinced.

“And, keep in mind,” I said cautiously, hoping that this next admission would be enough to regain her good graces without revealing too much, “that your sex in this game is optional.”

She froze, and her face scrunched up in confusion. “…W-wait. Does that mean you’re a mare?”

“Not… necessarily,” I answered vaguely, dangling the tantalizing morsel before her. “I make no admission either way. I’d… rather nopony knew.”

She blinked several times, processing the answer, and her countenance softened immeasurably as she did so. No doubt the mere notion that I was potentially a mare had done wonders to dissuade her fears.

There may have been a line in the sand between us, Miss Belle, but clearly some things were universal, no matter which side you stood upon.

“…Okay. I… I guess I understand,” she finally replied.

“Thank you. Is that enough to sate your curiosity?”

“…I don’t know. Maybe?” She shrugged. “I guess it’ll have to do…”

‘For now,’ were the unspoken words undoubtedly left to wither on her tongue.

“Very well.”

As she looked off into the distance, I breathed an internal sigh of relief at having averted yet another disaster… by the skin of my teeth, at that. I certainly wasn’t out of the woods yet. No doubt this would come up again, and I would have to find a way to prepare for—

“So, uh… I guess that means you’re not coming after all, are you.”

Hm? Coming? “Pardon?”

“The tournament. In Manehattan.”

Ah. I had almost forgotten the point of this conversation.

“I’m afraid not,” I said with a helpless shrug.

“Heh, figured…” A half-hearted chuckle. “Not gonna lie, when Miss Prosperity told me you lived in Ponyville and asked if I could forward the invitation, I was really… really hoping you’d say yes.”

I spared her a vaguely apologetic smile. “Sorry to disappoint, Dovetail.”

“It’s fine, I guess. Button’s almost definitely going, so at least I won’t be alone.”

“Almost definitely?”

“He has to ask his mom first, since he’s not thirteen yet,” she said. “But I’m pretty sure she’s gonna say yes. Hay, she might even go. She loves this sorta stuff.”

“She sounds very supportive of her son.”

“She is. She’s a wonderful mother.” Dovetail gazed off, her expression going soft. “Kind, caring… a bit loony, if I were being honest. But always encouraging him to live his dreams, no matter what. Always there for him.”

Were it so that own mother could be nearly as ever-present.

“I wish my own mom were like that.”

…That voice had decidedly not been mine.

I turned to stare at the filly who had so immaculately, unknowingly, echoed my own thoughts. She returned my look with a helpless, wistful little smile, a subtle shimmering in her eyes hinting at some deeper grief she left unspoken.

I barely had time to think on my own response before it left my mouth.

“As do I.”

Her eyes widened, but before she could speak, she suddenly halted, her head turning sideways as her focus snapped to something in the distance. “Er, hi sis, what’s up?”

…Ah. Her sister Miss Rarity had seized her attention. Well then.

“Really? They’re inviting us to dinner? Now? What for?” A momentary pause, then a nervous titter. “Heh, uhh, yeaaaaaah, I was gonna talk to you about that later tonight… No sis, I promise I wasn’t planning on going without asking you first, I’m not demented.” Oh, but I’d argue that. “…Oh haha, very funny.” Clearly, I wasn’t not alone. Brava, Miss Rarity. “…Yeah, I’ll explain everything at dinner… Okay, just call me down when you’re ready.”

She turned back to me with a sheepish smile. “Uhh, sorry about that…”

“I’m assuming that was your sister?”

“Yeah. She just got a summons from Button’s mom, inviting us over for dinner.”

“Speak of the devil,” I mused. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, somepony told his mom about the trip, and so she invited us over to discuss our ‘mutual’ plans to go to Manehattan.”

“That sounds… awfully definitive. I thought you were still considering?”

“I am!” she huffed angrily. “That… ugh, that blockhead just decided to take the initiative, I guess!”

“As impulsive in real life as he appears to be here, I see.”

“No kidding. I’m surprised you haven’t already known that about him, actually.” She appraised me slowly. “I mean… you have seen him around before, right?”

And here I hoped we had evaded this topic.

“...Yes, but only on rare occasions,” I lied.

“Oh. I see…”

An awkward silence befell us again. Somehow I was not surprised.

Looking to avoid the awkwardness, I glanced upwards towards the sky, which was only just beginning its transition to night as the stars blossomed to life, one by one. Distantly I wondered who controlled them in this world, if the Princess of the Night was long gone—

Knock knock.

“Er, one moment.” I quickly muted my headset before calling to the door. “Who is it?”

“Lady Silver?” came the voice of my steward from beyond the door of my room. “Dinner is ready.”

“Ah, thank you!” I called back to him. “I’ll be down in a moment!”

“What’s up?” came a voice from my headset, and I glanced back at the stratoscreen, which showed Dovetail with her head cocked to the side in curiosity. “Were you talking to somepony else?”

“Yes, my st— I mean, yes, I was,” I spoke quickly into the mouthpiece. “I’m afraid I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, alright Dovetail?”

“…Okay,” she replied, her voice clearly laced with disappointment. “See you later.”

“See you.”

Standing up and taking off my headset, I tapped the front of the Hoofbox. The stratoscreen, and Dovetail’s crestfallen face, faded from view.

That was not a clean departure. I had undoubtedly left her hanging, possibly with dozens of questions on her tongue, and a mind filled with uncertainties.

But I had done all I could to assuage her fears and settle her nerves. There was nothing left for me to do… for now.

With a heavy sigh, I stood up and trotted towards the door. On the bright side, at least now I could spend time with my mother.

So much for that.

I set down my fork with a sigh and gave my food an irritable stare… though I suppose that was unfair. After all, it wasn’t my ratatouille’s fault that I couldn’t enjoy dinner with my family.

No, that dubious honor went to the rankling gaggle of servants, accountants, and scribes hovering behind my mother like a swarm of parasprites as she coordinated various logistics over her own untouched plate.

“And ensure that the new foremare is made keenly aware of our overtime pay policies such that everypony gets paid their dues,” she dictated to the scribe, who was frantically scribbling notes. “The last thing we need is a repeat of the strike caused by her dimwitted predecessor—production cannot stall for even a single day.”

“Yes, Madame Sterling!”

Lost in her own world, I disregarded her and instead glanced across the table at my elder sister. A sour expression adorned Quicksilver’s face as she toyed absentmindedly with a piece of diced zucchini speared upon her fork.

Despite our rather lukewarm relationship, I couldn’t help but share a moment of silent solidarity with Quicksilver. After all, we were both particularly miffed at mother’s current state of preoccupation, especially during the last supper we would share on the eve of her departure.

Of course, I said nothing. My sister, however, was far more transparent—she gave a dramatic sigh, accompanied by a roll of her eyes that could have rivaled the Sun’s orbit.

That seemed to catch mother’s attention.

“Oh dear, do forgive me,” she replied with a wave of her hoof across the various scrolls that decorated her end of the table. “There’s simply ever so much left to handle before I take my leave. I’ll be gone for quite some time, after all.”

“That’s the problem,” replied Quicksilver sullenly. “It’ll be two months before we see you again.”

“Honey, I know,” she placated, quickly glancing around. “Let me just— ah, Goldberg! That expenditures report I asked for this afternoon?”

“Just leave mother be for now,” I muttered towards my sister as mother was once again absorbed into her logistics. “She has enough on her plate already.”

“She hasn’t even touched her plate,” my sister grunted in reply.

“Business is as business will be,” I said with a sigh.

“Easy for the heir to say,” she hissed indignantly. “You must be gobbling all this business up.”

“Don’t be absurd, Quicksilver. I want to enjoy dinner with mother just as much as you do.”

“You seem to be enjoying it just fine.”

No, sister, I was just very good at making it seem like I enjoyed it.

Not that I would ever say that out loud, of course. It was my discretion that made me the favored heir, after all.

“I am merely patient, is all,” I replied simply, having grown far too used to deflecting my sister’s jealousy to care.

“Hmph.” Apparently said jealousy was not enough to stir her further, and she returned to her meal.

As we polished off the remainder of our food, the number of ponies behind my mother began to dwindle, until eventually our Head Servant was all that remained.

“…is packed away and ready for the carriage,” said Mirror Sheen with a curt nod, his composed demeanor a far cry from the din of those who had come before. “All that remains is to await your escort.”

“Excellent,” replied mother cordially. "Thank you."

With that, Mirror Sheen politely bowed and stepped away to finish the remainder of the preparations, and mother sat back with a relaxed sigh.

"All is well?" I asked.

"As well as it can be," she breathed with a sigh. “As wonderful as it is to get these sudden opportunities, it certainly isn’t easy to take advantage of them.”

“This one seems to have come out of nowhere.”

“Indeed,” she said with a nod. “Apparently, several arms and armaments suppliers across the country have renewed their production contracts with the Equestrian Defense Forces.”

“So demand for metal is rising?”

“By staggering amounts,” she confirmed with a nod. “Over sixty-four hundred percent.”

…Impossible. “That much? How large is the order?”

“I’m not completely certain, since the manufacturers aren’t revealing the particulars about their contracts with the EDF,” she admitted, “but based on the tonnage requests of Aegis Tactical, I’m estimating an order large enough to make over fifty thousand sets.”

“That’s… that’s insane,” muttered Quicksilver.

“And even that figure isn’t accurate,” continued mother. “Mere hours before the sudden spike in demand, Aegis announced a new range of body shields, which they claimed could be made with just under half as many resources as their standard-issue plate-and-chain.”

“So we could be looking at even more than fifty thousand?” I asked.

“Perhaps even past a hundred thousand.”

Stars above. A swath of contract renewals, a spike in metal demand, a new range of economical armor…

The conclusion was obvious.

“Negotiations with the gryphons aren’t going very well,” I said gravely, “are they.”

“To say the least,” my mother replied, heaving a large sigh. “And I expect we’ll be seeing a huge recruitment spree across Equestria in the next few months.”

An image of the bedraggled but smiling Archmage came unbidden to my mind, and I distantly wondered where she was and how she was doing.

“Where will you be going?” asked Quicksilver, her tone laced with concern. “Not closer to Gryphos, I hope?”

“Hoofington,” mother replied tersely, “so yes, right up against the border.”

Quicksilver paled, and I felt a chill run down my spine. “Why so close to the front?”

“You’ve heard of the surge of immigrants coming in from Dimondia to Hoofington?”

Ah. “So, a swath of cheap canine labor is flooding Hoofington, and you’re looking to employ.”

“Essentially, yes. That, and they work very fast.”

She was certainly taking a great many risks to capitalize on this opportunity.

“…That logic is sound,” I admitted with a nod… though it did not quell my uneasiness. “With that many opportunities coalescing at once, it would be silly not to cash in.”

“Yes,” quipped Quicksilver sarcastically, “almost as silly as relocating nearer to the border of a hostile nation.”

I felt myself wince—not from the bluntness of her statement, but the silent agreement I felt in my heart.

“Oh, honey,” my mother placated, giving my sister a weak smile, “it won’t be so bad—“

“You said it yourself, mother!” she shouted, suddenly rising from her chair. “Negotiations are failing! We’re on the brink of war! And you think now, of all times, is a good opportunity to expand operations near Gryphos?!”

“Quicksie, dear, I know, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportuni—!“

“So you’re gonna go get yourself killed for a bit of money?!” she retorted in fury. “Look around you! We have enough! We don’t need to lose our lives over more!”

“Enough, Quicksilver!” I declared, slamming a hoof on the table. “We have our nation’s top diplomats looking to settle our differences between ourselves and the gryphons, and even if things get bad, mother will have plenty of time to retreat from Hoofington if the situation escalates—“

“Why am I not surprised you’re completely in favor of this?!” she snapped, whirling on me with an angry glare. “In fact, why don’t you just go with her! It’s obvious what the ponies in this family care more about!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!” I shouted back at her. “I’m just as concerned for mother’s safety as you—“

“You’re not convincing anypony, heir.”

Oh Stars no, she did not just go there.

“Quicksilver,” I warned, “don’t you even dare imply that—“

“Fine, I WON’T!” she roared, knocking back her chair. “It’s obvious my opinion means nothing! See if I care if you go and get yourselves killed!”

Without another word, she whirled around and stormed out of sight. We could hear her booming hoofsteps on the floor above, shortly followed by the loud SLAM!of her bedroom door.

As an uncomfortable silence befell the dining hall, I slowly turned to my mother, who was staring at my sister’s vacant seat, her body quivering. Quickly, I made my way around the dining table and put a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “Pay Quicksilver no mind, mother. She’s just scared for you, that’s all.”

“…So am I,” she whispered.

That… was not a response I expected. “If you’re scared, then do you truly have to go?”

“I… of course I do,” she said with a sniffle. “I just wish your sister would understand…”

“She’s just letting her fear get to her,” I assured her, even if my own mind was uncertain. “I’m sure the war won’t happen.”

Mother fixed me with a grave stare. “Silver, don’t be naïve. Both of us know that the possibility of war is very real.”

“Then perhaps it’s unwise to depart for Hoofington,” I remarked. “Quicksilver is right. Your well-being isn’t worth whatever money we could make.”

She sighed. “Silver... this isn’t about money.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Duty,” she declared with finality.

Duty? “To whom? Equestria?”

“To you and your sister.”

To us? “I… don’t understand.” Was this about money, still? We were perfectly well-off.

“Silver, look at it this way,” she said, putting her hooves on my shoulders. “If the gryphons attack, who will stand between them and the two most important ponies in my life?”

The answers began work themselves out in my mind. “…The Equestrian army.”

“Right. And what do they need to help defend you?”

“Weapons and armor,” I answered, already knowing where this was going.

“Exactly. We supply the lion’s share of the materials needed to produce said armaments, and the Dimondian immigrants in Hoofington are the best prospectors and miners in the land—securing their labor will be a huge force multiplier to our output.”

“I… suppose I can understand that,” I said with a nod. “But if money isn’t a concern, then why does it have to be us? Why not leave it to another company?”

“Oh Silver, you and I know the answer to that already,” she said with a haughty smirk. “Perhaps this comes from a place of pride, but by my evaluation, we’re the only mining company that has the infrastructure and resources to accommodate such a huge influx of workers with minimal overhead. It has to be us, and nopony else.”

She was right. Not only was the Silversmith Mining Company the fastest-growing organization of its kind, it maintained said momentum by being an exemplar of corporate efficiency, a well-oiled machine designed from the ground up to easily expand operations at a moment’s notice. No doubt that, were any other company to try their hand at such a massive undertaking, their output would be hamstrung by organizational inefficiencies, or they would run out of capital and simply collapse under the weight.

Though it did little to ease my worries, it all made sense. Mother was simply looking out for us in the best way she could.

“…Okay,” I said finally. “I understand.”

“Thank you, Silver.” She wrapped her arms around me. “I knew you would… my dear daughter…”

It mattered not how logical her reasoning was, or that I was perfectly capable of caring for myself; I still didn’t want her to go. I curled my face against the warmth of my mother’s coat, felt the beating of her heart, the gentle rhythms of her breathing, as I shared what would be the last moment I’d have with her for a long time.

“Madame Sterling?” came a voice from the doorway; we both looked up and met eyes with Mirror Sheen, who remained carefully neutral. “The escort has arrived, and your carriage is prepared to depart. It leaves at your convenience…” He nodded towards me. “…and that of the young Miss.”

“Thank you, Sheen. I will be but a moment.”

She turned back to me, smiling sadly as she stroked a piece of mane from my face with a hoof.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, mother,” I chided with a soft giggle—partially to stave off the ache in my own heart.

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling lightly herself.

Another sigh, another few moments, and she finally broke contact.

“Well, I suppose I shan’t tarry if I want to make it to Hoofington in a timely manner.” We trotted towards the front door, held open by Mirror Sheen.

She paused as she stepped over the threshold, her gaze drifting to the ceiling—no doubt towards where the brooding Quicksilver lay just beyond. “I don’t want to just leave her, with things like this…”

“She’ll come around,” I said, giving her a gentle nudge. “I’ll try to talk to Quicksilver. Don’t worry about her.”

“Thank you, Silver Spoon.” We trotted outside—Luna’s night had fallen across the land, the sky a cascade of glittering lights—and made our way towards the carriage waiting just outside the door. “I swear, that girl makes me wonder who the older sister really is, sometimes.”

“We both have our moments,” I said with a shrug. “The important thing is that we’ll come together when it counts.”

“And I’m glad that you two can look after each other while I’m gone.”

“Always.” I stepped back as she boarded the carriage. “Safe journeys, mother.”

“Goodbye, Silver Spoon.” She spared one last smile towards me before the door shut. With that, the carriage departed down the street and out of sight, the echo of its wheels clattering upon the cobblestone growing fainter and fainter until it too was drowned out by the ambience of the Ponyvillean night.

I turned back to the house, where Mirror Sheen was standing beside the front door, patiently holding it open for me.

Beyond the threshold was pitch-black emptiness, and somewhere beyond that blackness was my sister.

With a sigh, I trotted up. But as I crossed the threshold, I turned to look at Sheen.

“I’m glad you’re still here, at least.”

“Always ready to serve, Lady Silver,” he replied, cordial and professional as ever.

At least the inside was noticeably brighter than it looked from the yard.

My hoof hovered over the door to Quicksilver's room, which had thus far lain silent.

Perhaps now was not the right time. No doubt my sister was still rather raw -- mother had only just departed an hour ago, after all.

Still... I wanted to talk it over with her. I honestly couldn't stand the thought of her brooding, especially not if mother was simply trying to look after us in the only way she knew how.

...That, and I didn't want to have to deal with a hellion for the remainder of mother's absence. Better I defuse the situation now before she could have a chance to stew in her anger any longer.

Hesitantly, I tapped twice on the door.

"Quicksilver?"

No response.

“Quicksilver, are you awake?"

"Piss off, Spoon."

...Well then.

"Your attitude is entirely unnecessary, sister. I merely wish to speak with you."

"And I don't want a damn thing to do with you right now."

"Well, we're going to be stuck with nothing but each other for an entire weekend," I reasoned, "so perhaps it'd be best if--"

WHAM.

The door flew open, revealing the furious visage of my sister -- her mane was in total disarray, and her eyes were ringed with dried tears.

"You wanna know what I think would be best?" she growled.

I huffed. "Well, I doubt I'm going to hear a reasonable suggestion with that sort of tone--"

"You should have just gone and gotten yourself killed with mother."

I flinched, but quickly regained my composure. "Quicksilver, I'm just as worried as you are for mother's safety. but you know just as well as I do that she is in practically no danger."

"No danger? No danger?! She's going to Hoofington! That's, like, ten meters away from the damn border! The gryphons are close enough that they could probably level the city in seconds--"

"They could level half our nation in seconds if they wanted to, no matter where we were. It's not like they just roll their missiles over the border. She's no safer here than she would be in Hoofington."

"That's chickenshit and you know it, Spoon."

"Why in Sun's name would I have any reason to lie about mother's prospects--"

"Do you think I'm stupid? It's obvious you just want her to get herself killed so you can inherit the family estate."

...

"You know," I muttered darkly, "when you had spoken earlier at dinner tonight, I was a bit hesitant to believe the implication behind your words. I thought that even you couldn't reach such a ridiculous conclusion."

"Hah! You call it ridiculous, yet here we are!" She extended her forelegs in mock grandeur. "Silver Spoon, poised to inherit the Silver Mining Company at any cost!"

"That is utterly ridiculous and you know it! I make no lie about hoping to succeed mother, but I would never wish ill on her to achieve that end!"

"Of course you would! You're just a greedy little shit who cares for nothing except how much money she can get her grubby hooves on!"

"And you're just jealous that you can't be the heir! Perhaps if you were as responsible as I, mother would have given it to you instead!"

"Hah! Good thing I'm not as selfish and egotistical as you, otherwise I might actually give a damn!"

"It's hard to imagine a vindictive little hellion like you giving a damn about anything worthwhile to begin with!"

"At least I give a damn about mother!"

"So do I!"

"Then you would have stopped her from going!"

"Neither of us could have stopped her from going and you know it!"

"YOU could have, 'cause you're her favorite, but you didn't, 'cause--"

"ENOUGH, Quicksilver!" I slammed a hoof into the doorframe with a loud THUD. "We are arguing in circles! You can levy the same baseless assertions against me ad nauseam for the remainder of eternity, but it changes nothing! Mother is gone, and there's nothing we can do about it! But at least ONE of us here cared enough to try!"

"I tried at dinner!"

"No sister, you shrieked in her face and tried to make me out as a scapegoat! I actually SPOKE with her, gave her a chance to explain herself, and--"

"She explained enough at dinner for me to know that she didn't need to go."

"And I learned otherwise, Quicksilver. She's trying to keep us safe!"

"Safe?! What part of getting herself killed will keep us safe? How stupid do you think I am, to accept such an asinine explanation?!"

"Obviously, the more metal she can sell to the--"

"Sell! SELL! If this is the half-assed 'excuse' that you'll be able to come up with, then I don't want to hear it! Get out of my sight!"

"Quicksilver--"

"OUT! Just GO! GET OUT!

"FINE! Maybe I will! Maybe I'll just take a trip to Manehattan for all you care! Better than dealing with your insufferable attitude for the next two months!"

"Fine!" she shouted. "Good riddance! Maybe I can get some semblance of peace with you gone!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Without a second thought, she whirled around and kicked the door, slamming it shut in my--

OW!

"Quicksilver, you hit my nose!"

"FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!"

Rubbing my smarting muzzle, I stomped towards my room, wondering to myself why I had even bothered to try with that infuriating girl.

"Lady Silver?"

I stopped and turned to face the head servant, who stood on the staircase. With a deep breath, I steadied my tone.

"I'm assuming you overheard that."

"I'd wager most of the district did."

Hah. Impossible. Our land was too wide for our voices to carry to another household.

"Well, do give the rest of the staff my apologies. I certainly hadn't intended to expose them to... well... whatever that was."

"I belief a 'tiff' would be an accurate description," he suggested.

"A tiff it is, then."

"Very good, Lady Silver." He gave a curt bow, and we resumed the walk to my room. "Shall I make arrangements for a trip to Manehattan?"

What? "No! No, that's quite alright, Sheen. That was just a... well, 'joke' doesn't seem to be quite the right word..."

"Perhaps 'bluff'?" he supplied.

"Something to that effect, I suppose."

I stared out a nearby window. The courtyard lay bare, as did the streets beyond -- a gentle downpour had begun in the last few minutes or so, coating the roads with a shimmer that reflected the light of the gas lamps in the street.

"If you may permit my curiosity...?"

"Go ahead."

"Any reason why Manehattan? You've never expressed interest in the city before, and the company doesn't have any branches in that part of Equestria."

I supposed that there was no real reason to hide the truth.

"I was invited," I explained, resuming my walk. "A... friend of mine is holding a social get-together, of sorts."

"And are you considering attending?"

"Stars, no. It's a rather brutish affair."

"Ah. A shame," said Mirror Sheen. "I imagine a trip to Manehattan would certainly be a welcome respite from what appears to have been a rather tumultuous week for you."

"Indeed it would be..." I replied absentmindedly.

"And that, as Lady Quicksilver bears no ill will towards me -- for the moment -- I would be more than equipped to keep her company over the weekend."

I turned to him, brow quirked. "Sheen, are you trying to get me to take this trip?"

He gave a knowing smile and a curt nod. "Certainly, Lady Silver. I feel it would be most beneficial to your emotional well-being, as well as that of Lady Quicksilver."

Hm. He had a point. Quicksilver was, for the time being, volatile -- some distance could do us good. And I had to admit that I could use some space from Ponyville, the Crusaders, and everything else that had transpired over the last several days.

Of course, attending the event would essentially mean revealing myself to Sweetie Belle.

...But then again, I didn't NEED to attend the event. Perhaps I could simply take a trip to Manehattan, trot around the city, see the sights. After all, I had never traveled alone before, and now that I was of age, it was well within my ability to do so. The opportunity was ripe.

Perhaps I could even take Diamond Tiara.

With a smile, I turned to the head servant. His eyes widened slightly, but not enough to break his calm demeanor — though I did notice the corner of his mouth curl upwards ever-so-slightly.

I grinned in response.

"Sheen… I believe I shall be making this trip after all."

Author's Note

Thanks to Zaid ValRoa and Sharp Quill for editing.

|♫| ᴠ. The Ruin

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

Crumbling spires rose all around us as Dovetail and I trotted through the silent ruins of the ancient gryphon city of Highcrowne—once a majestic metropolis, now nothing more than the desiccated husk of a long-dead civilization, abruptly brought to devastation by some long-forgotten cataclysm.

Honestly, I was getting just a tad bit bored.

“We’ve been here for an hour,” I grunted as we turned a corner onto yet another roadway lined with dilapidated storefronts.

“I know, I know!” Dovetail groaned. “I just can’t… ugh! This map is confusing and out-of-date, okay?! Nopony's walked these streets in centuries.”

I was pretty certain these streets didn't even exist prior to two years ago, much less a century. Though I had to hoof it to the video game’s creators: they certainly knew how to make an apocalyptic ruin look pretty.

Ironically enough, this appeared to be lost on Dovetail, who, rather than bear witness to the destroyed beauty of the fallen gryphon empire, elected to remain muzzle-deep into an ancient tome of some sort, only occasionally glancing upwards to squint at a glowing map she had projected before her.

“What are you even reading?” I asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“It’s an old book that details the history of the House of Autumn,” she explained. “I found it in an old library that was being protected by a Forlorn patrol just outside Highcrowne.”

Ah, yes. More inscrutable jargon from the annals of illusory video game antiquity. How positively electrifying. “And how, exactly, is this book supposed to help us?”

“Because it might provide some clues as to where their stronghold is,” she said with growing impatience. “I already learned from it that Highcrowne is laid out like a gigantic wheel, and each of the intersticks— umm, interstates…?”

“Interstices.”

“Yeah, those things. Each one was ruled over by a noble gryphon House. Right now, we’re in the part of Highcrowne that was ruled over by the House of Autumn.”

Hmm. How much of this ‘Noble Houses’ concept was accurate to real life? Admittedly I wasn’t familiar with Gryphosi politics. Despite the extraordinary reach of the Silver family, we had never dealt with gryphons directly. Though, in all fairness, that was to be expected, since Gryphos and Equestria had never been on the best of terms even prior to the Cold War.

Then again, after uncountable centuries, it was unlikely that this video game version of Gryphos had borne any resemblance to the real, modern-day Gryphos.

“You say ‘ruled’, past-tense,” I observed. “If Gryphos doesn’t exist anymore, what makes you think this ‘House of Autumn’ is still here? Wouldn’t they have fallen with the rest of the nation?”

She gave me a frustrated sigh, as if explaining very basic knowledge to a child. “Just because the nation fell to ruin, doesn’t mean its people all just up and disappeared. After the Collapse, the survivors regrouped under the remaining Houses, which are now fighting each other for control of Highcrowne.”

Sounded like the problem would take care of itself. “So why not just let them? What does it matter to us?”

I received a blank stare in reply. "You really weren't kidding about not having played the story at all, were you."

I shrugged. She knew the answer to that already, and it didn't bear repeating.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “They’re not just gonna kill each other off. Eventually a House is gonna emerge on top, lay claim to Highcrowne, and attempt to restore the glory of their fallen civilization.”

Oh no, we certainly didn’t want that, did we. The big, bad, scary gryphons, reasserting control over the fictional facsimile of a crumbling metropolis.

…This was such a colossal waste of time.

After mustering a gigantic sigh, I finally asked her: “Dovetail, why are you even bothering?”

“Shadow, we can’t let them regain their power,” Dovetail continued, returning her attentions to her little floating tome, oblivious to the true intent of my statement. “These gryphons stopped being ‘noble’ during the Collapse. Now they’ve become Forlorn, shadows of their former selves driven mad by Chaos. Once they’re done killing each other, they’re gonna turn on us and New Everfree—”

“That’s not what I mean, Dovetail,” I interrupted. “I’m asking you why you’re bothering to do all… this. In a video game.”

Dovetail froze. She slowly turned to me, her face scrunched up in confusion as she attempted to comprehend my question. “All ‘this’? All what? What’s that supposed to mean?”

It meant exactly what I said.

Despite my exceedingly low opinion of Sweetie Belle, I had borne witness to her antics almost every day for the last three years. Thus it was probably safe for me to say that I knew her. Or, at least, I knew of her life circumstances.

Like most fillies our age, Sweetie Belle had her entire life ahead of her, with a litany of struggles to overcome, goals to achieve, and opportunities to seize. We were in our final year of school, poised precariously upon the teetering cusp of adulthood, preparing for yet another chapter in our storied lives. And, if her life was anything like mine, this particular chapter was undoubtedly the busiest and most hectic of any other she’d experienced to date.

But instead, instead, she was choosing to waste her life as ‘Dovetail’, gamboling about in this video game world, solving inconsequential mysteries and fighting non-existent enemies in service to an adventuring career that would never have a meaningful impact on her actual life.

It wasn’t a complicated question.

“Why are you playing this game?” I reasserted. “What’s the point of all this? Why does any of it matter?”

For a moment, her jaw gaped, her face struck with an expression of pure disbelief. “I… what?! Isn’t it— that doesn’t even make sense—!”

“Right, which is why I’m asking.”

In fact, I daresay the staggering idiocy of this decision was beyond comprehension. It betrayed every possible logical thinking process ever devised by intelligent life. It was irrational to the highest degree.

Apparently some fraction of this sentiment had become clear to the filly, if her total loss for words was any indication. After a few moments of irate sputtering—ooh, how I relished in her indignation—she managed to fire back with a meagre: “Well, why are you playing this game then, Shadow?”

“For sport,” I replied without hesitation. “It’s no different than a game of chess. I test my mental acumen against other players in contests of skill to see who emerges on top.”

“Well there you go—”

“No, Dovetail. Our situations are not comparable. I play at most for one or two hours a day. You’re devoting inordinate amounts of time and energy towards studying the convoluted history of a fictional world so that you may do battle against an imaginary threat.”

She blinked again, taken aback by my assessment. “S-so what?! It’s fun!”

“It’s wasteful. How old are you?”

“Huh? I— I’m thirteen,” she stammered. “But what does that even—”

“Then you are not at an age where you have time to dawdle. If you dedicated nearly half the time you spent in this game towards fruitful pursuits, you’d be capable of—”

“Are you seriously pulling that card?!” she snapped back, her anger surging forth. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from someone who’s playing the same game as me! ‘Oh, you can do anything if you just set your mind to it!’”

“It’s true. You could accomplish so much more—”

“YOU THINK I HAVEN’T TRIED?!”

I flinched as her shrill voice blared into my ears, echoing throughout the dilapidated ruins of Highcrowne.

Urgh! If there was anything infuriating about Sweetie Belle, it was her bestial temperament. How this insufferable filly emerged as the most ‘ladylike’ of her little cabal was utterly beyond my comprehension—

…

Wait.

Was she…

…was she crying?

Oh Stars, she was. Dovetail had fallen into a defensive crouch, angry tears blossoming forth in her quivering eyes as she barely managed to choke back sobs. The tome she had been reading just moments ago lay discarded a good thirty meters away, apparently tossed aside in a fit of rage.

Clearly I had touched a nerve.

How delightful.

“Well then I daresay you haven’t tried hard enough,” I surmised with a disdainful grin.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like you know how hard I try,” she snarled. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

Ironically enough, I did! Not that it mattered, of course.

“I don’t need to know you,” I sneered, “to know how irresponsible it is to squander so much energy on such a fruitless—”

“EVERYTHING IS FRUITLESS!” she suddenly roared. “EVERYTHING IS A WASTE OF TIME! NOTHING EVER WORKS!”

To absolutely nopony’s great surprise, Sweetie Belle was losing control of her social graces, as she was wont to do whenever anypony even dared to disturb the agitated hornet’s nest that was her trigger-happy temperament. Stars, what an outburst! It was certainly providence that we were having this, er, ‘discussion’ over the Stratonet. Her manic expression looked ready to kill, her wild gaze fixated on mine…

…until, unexpectedly, her eyes turned downcast. With a shudder, she slowly fell back onto her rear, and all of her fury vanished in an instant.

“Nothing ever f-fucking works…”

Ah, yes. Despair.

I had her cornered. Now, she was utterly vulnerable. Prime opportunity for the predator to swoop in and claim its—

“You know, I don’t even have my cutie mark yet,” she announced quite suddenly.

Why yes, dear Sweetie Belle, I in fact did know that. But I certainly appreciated you supplying that little morsel for me, so that I could save myself the effort of exemplifying your pitiable situation—

“Hilarious, right?” she continued in a low tone laced with feigned mirth. “I’m thirteen, and I’ve been trying non-stop for years now. And I still don’t have it.”

Oh, she was making this far too easy. Of course, her own self-derision wouldn’t stop me from pointing out how utterly pathetic she was.

…but something else did.

Her voice.

The first time Sweetie Belle had ever opened her damnable muzzle in my presence, I about had an allergic reaction. She had the most infuriatingly chipper voice imaginable. It was bubbly and squeaky and maddeningly shrill, like the incessant yapping of a hyperactive dog having just inhaled a lethal dose of helium.

That, combined with a defensive temper primed on a hair trigger, had made Sweetie Belle coalesce in my mind as a tightly-wound coil of reactionary idealism that was entirely blind to her own inadequacies. In lieu of attempting to address her own faults, she merely bulldozed her way through them, deluding herself into thinking that they wouldn’t come back to bite her perpetually blank flank someday.

This was not the voice of that filly. In its stead was one that sounded… defeated. Tired. Resigned.

In all my years of knowing Sweetie Belle… I had never heard this voice.

“I know I have talents,” she continued in that same listless drone. “I can sing. I can dance. I’ve been picking up fencing, too. And cello, and sewing, and cooking, and all sorts of things. My sister and my teacher and my instructors all tell me that if my heart’s into something, I can learn it really fast.”

That was surprising. I didn’t realize that she had that diverse an array of skills.

“Why not hone those talents?” I asked.

“I do!” she retorted defensively, though her crestfallen bearing was quick to retake its hold. “Or at least I try to… but it never seems to go anywhere. Nothing sticks. After a certain point, I just hit this… this ceiling, where it feels like I can’t get any better. I keep making mistakes. Simple ones. Stupid ones. And I try to learn from them and fix them, but then it slips my mind, or I get distracted, or something, and I screw it up again.”

She held up her forehooves and stared at them for a moment, as if questioning their purpose.

“I can’t ever just… get it right.”

…

Quite frankly, her propensity for failure was not a surprise to me. At all.

Sweetie Belle had always been a bit of an… anomaly to me. She was very clearly not a stupid pony—loathe as I was to admit it—and yet it always seemed like catastrophe followed her everywhere she went. And it wasn’t just limited to whatever foul misfortunes she would inflict as part of her activities with Ponyville’s homegrown terrorist organization, the Crusaders.

Even in school, it always seemed like she was constantly struggling to keep up. For every moment she lit up with the correct answer to one of Miss Cheerilee’s questions, there would be another where she had missed homework, or forgotten a simple fact, or made basic errors on a test that any sane pony would have easily caught.

With every mistake, every oversight, every egregious failure, she would apologize profusely and vow upon the Sun and Stars that it wouldn’t happen again, infusing each apology with the same delusional confidence that she always carried about herself. And despite all assurances, it would happen again, and again, and again. Like clockwork.

I think that was what intrigued me so much about the filly. In defiance of all logic and reason, she was a walking disaster. And, like watching a train derailment in slow motion, observing her came with its own morbid sense of eagerness to witness whatever tragedy she would be responsible for next.

But still, one couldn’t help but be baffled by the dichotomy. How was it that Sweetie Belle, who was unmistakably of above-average intellect, could make so many dumb mistakes? Was she simply that oblivious to her own shortcomings?

…Well, apparently not, if her words just now were any indication. She at least possessed just enough self-awareness to feel guilt and regret, something that I had never thought the filly capable of.

And it wasn’t like she was terrible at everything.

“If you struggle so hard with success,” I reasoned with her, “then why do you put so much effort into this video game?”

She glanced up at me for a moment, blinking. Evidently, this was not a question she had considered before.

“You said it’s impossible for anything to ‘stick’, and you can’t just ‘get it right’,” I continued, sitting down next to her. “So what makes this video game different? You’re clearly very good at it. That contradicts your earlier statement.”

“I… I dunno,” she eventually managed.

“You… dunno?”

“I dunno!” she repeated, shaking a bit. “I really, really don’t know how to explain it, Shadow. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t explain it.”

Well, at least she acknowledged the contradiction. Of course, that still didn’t answer the question.

A few moments passed in silence as she looked off into the distance.

“It’s just… it’s easier, for some reason,” she eventually said. “Things make more sense here. I mean, it has to, right? It’s a video game. It was designed to be winnable. Like, I know exactly what I need to do to succeed, what I’ll get when I do, and when I’m going to get it. Experience points, or new weapons and armor, or money, or a new ship.”

“What makes real life any different?” I asked. “If you work hard, you reap the rewards.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work, sure,” she replied, “but what happens if you work really hard at something, and nothing ever comes from it?”

“Then you merely have to be careful about how you choose to spend your time. It is, after all, a precious commodity.”

“That’s the scary part,” she said with a heavy sigh. “How do I know what I’m doing is ‘the right thing’? There’s so many things out there, but if I want to make a living off of any of it, I have to spend a lot of time to become really good at it, and maybe even money, if it means I have to attend an Academy to get a degree. So what happens if I pick the wrong thing? How do I even know that what I’m doing is the right thing? How much of my family’s money will I waste before I figure that out?”

I… supposed there was an inherent risk in making a career choice. It wasn’t one I had ever worried about myself, as my future had always been obvious: take the reigns of the Silver Mining Company from my mother. And, I suppose, I always had a financial fall-back in case things ever went south, Stars forbid.

But I could never figure out Sweetie Belle’s angle. Up until now, I had thought that she was simply careless and braindead about her future.

The reality was proving to be very different.

“I know that every minute I spend in this game is one that could have been spent better elsewhere,” she muttered. “I know that nothing I do here will ever mean anything in the real world. But even if it’s not real, I just… can’t help it, you know? At least this way I can get a tiny glimpse of what it’s like to not feel so helpless all the time.”

…

That’s all this was, then.

A power fantasy.

In her hooves was the power to take control of her destiny, to seize her fate, to secure her future. And she, instead, chose this.

She knew all of her problems. She was aware of her own shortcomings. And it was clear that these things consumed her with regret and guilt. But despite having a high degree of self-awareness—the one tool absolutely necessary to begin improving herself as an individual—she, instead, chose this.

I could never grow to respect a pony as pitiable as her.

“Ugh, listen to me,” she said with a dry chuckle. “Dumping half my personal problems on a complete stranger from the Stratonet.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Shadow. Guess I kinda just… ranted for a bit there.”

I bit my tongue. It would be pathetically easy to devastate whatever shattered remnants of her ego persisted, right here, right now.

But her last statement had illuminated something about her.

I had barely known her for a week, and the vast majority of our interactions had been antagonistic and competitive. Yet here she was, pouring her heart out to me, ‘a complete stranger from the Stratonet’.

It was plain as day: Sweetie Belle was a very, very trusting filly. And she had bestowed that trust upon me almost unconditionally.

I had my easy-in. The seeds of companionship had been sown, and all that was left was to nurture them, lull the filly into a false sense of security, lead her to believe that I was a pony she could trust. Perhaps, with enough time and patience, she would simply volunteer all of her deepest darkest secrets to me.

Oh, the prospect was delectable, indeed.

But first, I had the unenviable task of endearing myself to her.

Slowly, I put a hoof to Dovetail’s shoulder, and was met with no resistance. “It is no trouble. You’ve clearly been bottling that up for a while. All it took was for somepony like myself to wander by and trip the fuse.”

“Well, you were kinda being mean about it.”

“I have a policy of brute honesty. If I see a pony slipping up, I’ll tell them. Even if it causes a bit of discomfort on their part, it’s the only way they’ll get better. How else would they know what to fix otherwise?”

“That’s… true,” she admitted. “Is that why you’re so willing to take my advice when it comes to the Crucible?”

“You’re clearly a superior player. It’d be unwise not to defer to your experience.”

“Heh, yeah, I guess.” She hummed in thought. “Say, you seem pretty grown-up. How old are you, anyways?”

Hm. Personal questions. The filly was clearly attempting to visualize what kind of pony I was. Perhaps, with the right answers, I could mold this image into something favorable, influence her such that she would create an idealized construct worth admiring, making her more open to suggestion should the need ever arise.

But I still needed to be vague.

“Old enough to know what’s what,” I answered cryptically. “More than that, I cannot say.”

“Aw, c’mon,” she whined. “Not even a hint—”

Pop-pop-pop!

Several plumes of dust erupted before us, and within moments, both Dovetail and I were on our hooves. Weapons raised, we darted into the cover of a nearby store awning and began scanning the ruins for the source of the gunshots.

“Crap, I forgot we were in hostile territory,” she muttered.

“No matter,” I grunted. “They may have the jump on us, but if we identify them quickly—”

“That was a warning shot!” yelled a voice, hawkish and shrill. “You’ve crossed into the realm of the House of Kings!”

“Horseapples,” muttered Dovetail, her face paling noticeably. “It’s a gryphon player.”

Slowly, we turned towards the source of the voice, and were met with the hulking visage of a beastly gryphon. It gripped a massive machine gun in its claws, errant sparks of arc energy crackling from its electrified barrel.

“State your intentions,” the gryphon declared with a ferocious growl, “or be fired upon.”

11. Touch of Malice

“Every exercise of your power
adds a syllable to the greater song.”
—Forgotten Force

S W E E T I E B E L L E

With a heavy inhale, I took my fill of the fresh afternoon air and shuddered as energy coursed through my body, rousing stiff muscles to life. After basically no-lifing in my room for the last two days straight, trotting through the streets of Ponyville was a revitalizing change of pace.

Today was a busy day, too. It was mid-afternoon, so lots of ponies were just getting off work or school, scurrying about to meet up with friends or grab a late lunch.

It was difficult to watch them, knowing that anyone of them could be Shadow.

A stallion was opening up his market stall for the afternoon, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, a purse full of jingling coins at his side. He could have been Shadow.

A bespectacled mare trotted past me, her electric blue mane flouncing as she rocked her head to a beat that only she could hear. She could have been Shadow too.

A couple relaxed by the side of the fountain in the town square, one giggling softly while the other was likely whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Either of them could have been Shadow.

Ugh. This was going to drive me nuts. I shook my head to free it of the anxious thoughts. They would do nothing but haunt me the longer I worried about them.

“Something the matter, dear?”

I turned to Rarity, who was trotting beside me with her head tilted in worry.

“Just… exhausted, I guess,” I said with another sigh, turning back to watch the other ponies passing by in the street. Pangs of jealousy racked my core as I marveled at how anypony could be so carefree while my own mind festered with turmoil. “It’s been a long week, and it feels like it just keeps getting longer.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed, coiffing her mane with a hoof. “Still so much to do today before our trip!”

“Pretty much.”

Last night had been… interesting. While I had been upstairs talking to Shadow, Rarity had received a summons from Button’s mother, informing Rarity of the best time to pick him up for the trip and a small list of things he’d be taking with him. Which, you know, would be totally fine and all… except for the fact that I hadn’t even mentioned the trip to Rarity yet. I hadn’t had a chance to! I was still upstairs hashing things out with Shadow! Ugh.

But nope! Apparently Button was so excited that he’d completely jumped the gun and gave his mother the impression that I wasn’t just going, but I was taking him with me too! Because he’s an idiot.

“I still need to wrap my mind around this… ‘Prosperity’ thing,” continued Rarity. “A video game party? I can scarcely imagine such a concept.”

“I can’t either. I’m still not really sure what to expect.”

“You said she was a developer of this video game?”

“Something like that,” I affirmed with a nod. “She started off as an artist or something, then jumped over to public relations after a while. I’m not sure why.”

“And you’re certain of her authenticity?”

“Positive. She wore something that proved it—a badge of office, I guess you could say. Pretty much impossible to have unless she actually worked on the game.”

She hummed in thought. “Well, I’ll take your word for it. As long as you know what you’re getting into. I would very much like an opportunity to meet with this ‘Prosperity’ myself, however.” She gave me an apologetic look. “I do hope you understand, it’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, dear! Just for my own peace of mind.”

“That’s fine,” I replied. “I’ll feel better if you get a chance to meet her too.”

“Yes, well, it’s certainly an extraordinary bit of providence that this event managed to settle on the same weekend as my own visit to the city!”

“Yeah, go figure.”

So far, my sister’s response to the whole arrangement had been one of curiosity, which surprised me. I had definitely expected more resistance, but she had taken the entire thing in stride, and, after I had explained everything, seemed elated by the prospect.

“You must be absolutely thrilled,” she said, beaming at me.

I gave her a shrug. “Truth be told, if it weren’t already paid for, and if you weren’t already going, I wouldn’t be either. It’s kinda just whatever.”

She gave me a strained look. “Honestly, Sweetie Belle! I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. I daresay, after this week, you deserve a bit of a vacation.”

…Yeah, good point. This town wasn’t really doing me any favors anyways. A getaway was probably exactly what the doctor ordered.

“You will be careful though, yes?” she asked as we trotted out of the town square and into the neighborhood streets. “I mean, you’re of age now, so I don’t want to suffocate you with worry or anything, but… well, a sister can’t help but worry.”

“I’ll be fine. I have my ‘dancing’ lessons, and I’ll be with Button the entire time too.”

“Button? Hah!” She gave a remarkably unladylike snort. “I imagine you’re far more capable of defending yourself than he.”

“You and me both, sister,” I agreed with a chuckle.

I decidedly left out details about Shadow. The last thing I needed right now was for her to think I was in any kind of danger, especially when I wasn’t even sure of that myself.

Eventually, Button’s home came into view. It was a quaint, unassuming thatch structure, with few notable differences from the rest of the neighborhood. A lovely aroma wafted from the open windows… from which a small propeller top peeked out from behind the sill, slowly rising to reveal the brown face of Button Mash.

“Oh hey, Sweetie Belle’s here! Hi Sweetie!” he exclaimed, and I waved back before his head turned back inside. “Mooom! They’re here!”

“Well then go open the door for them, already!”

“Okaaaay!”

He disappeared from sight, and as we trotted up, the front door opened.

“Hi guys!” he said with an excited grin.

“Good evening, dearie,” said Rarity with a smile.

“Hey Button,” I greeted, forcing myself to smile a bit too.

“Sorry for logging off so early last night,” he said to me, shutting the door. “I was super-excited to tell mom, so I… kinda ran off on ya.”

“It’s fine,” I replied with a shrug, letting Rarity and Button fall into step behind me as I made a beeline to the kitchen. I had been here so often that it was nearly as familiar to me as Rarity’s.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked with concern. “You were a bundle of nerves after the whole deal with Shadow—”

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Button,” I growled, taking a quick glance at my sister to see if— yep, she was giving me a look already. Not dealing with this!

Before Rarity could open her mouth, I sped up my trot and immediately rounded the corner to the kitchen, where I found Miss Milano stirring a pot on the stove. Upon hearing my entrance, she whipped around in a heartbeat.

“Sweetie Belle!” she squealed, rushing up and enveloping me in a huge hug, submerging my view in a sea of wavy brown mane and tan fur. “Oh honey, it’s so good to see you again!”

“You too, Miss Milano.” Woo! Awkward conversation with Rarity averted!

“And Rarity, you ol’ doll, how’ve ya been?” she continued, letting go of me as she hustled to give Rarity the same treatment.

“Marvelous, Milano,” she replied courteously. “Lovely seeing you again as well, and thank you ever so much for inviting us over for the moment.”

“Absolutely! It’s been weeks since our last little shindig.” She turned back to me with a mischievous grin. “And I hear somepony got their cutie mark~”

Ohhhhh mare, here we go. “Yeah, like, a week ago.” I turned to show her my haunches.

“Oh that’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to examine it with genuine fascination. “Equal parts graceful and awesome! Ugh, now I’m jealous.”

Jealous? I let loose a light chuckle. “Hey, I’m up for a trade if you are.”

I probably came off as a bit joking, but seriously, I wouldn’t have minded a heart-and-bottle mark like hers. I had always wanted to be a mom anyways. Kids were great!

“I don’t think it works that way, hon,” she said sweetly, before shutting off the stove and heading to the door leading back into the hall. “Besides, I imagine you’ll need that talent of yours to whoop some flank tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Pfft.” I grinned, following her along with Rarity and Button. “Like I ever needed a cutie mark to do that.”

“That’s the attitude! Go get ‘em, tiger.” She turned to Rarity. “On that note, thank you so much for agreeing to take Button, despite the confusion yesterday. I don’t think I’ve seen him this excited since we got the Hoofbox!”

“It shouldn’t be any trouble,” replied Rarity with an easy smile. “They’ll likely be at the event all day while I’m doing my interview with Cirque du Poné, though I hope to take them exploring around town for a bit the night before.”

“That sounds like fun! I gave Button a little play money as well. Do make sure he doesn’t spend it all at one place!”

“Knowing Manehattan, I wonder if that’s even possible. But I’ll certainly try my best!”

“Good to hear.” As we emerged into the living room, Miss Milano turned back to us. “When does the train depart?”

“Four o’clock,” I chimed in. “We’re taking the new direct line, so the ride there should only be about three or four hours.”

“Ah, so you three should probably get going soon, I imagine?” She glanced at the clock, where the minute hoof had made it about halfway around the clock face.

“Yes indeed,” said Rarity, adjusting the saddlebags on her back. “It’ll take a bit to get through station security, so we’d like to arrive at least twenty minutes in advance.”

“Then I won’t keep you waiting.” Miss Milano trotted over to Button. “You all packed up and ready to go?”

“Yep!” He picked up his saddlebag, which was lying by the hall doorway. “Got everything I need!”

“Good boy.” She gave him a big hug. “You take care of yourself now, okay? Have fun, don’t cause too much trouble for Sweetie and her sister, and don’t eat anything strange off the sidewalk.”

“Mooooooom,” he grumbled. “C’mon, we gotta go!”

“Hehe. Alright, honey.” She let go and straightened his bangs a bit. “Hurry along! And don’t forget to say goodbye to your father on your way out!”

“I won’t!”

“Bye, Miss Milano!” I said with a wave as I made stepped out the front door.

“Bye mom!” said Button, falling into step behind me and only pausing to turn to a framed picture on an ornate nightstand in the living room. “Bye dad!”

“It was lovely seeing you again,” said Rarity to Miss Milano. “You must visit sometime after I get back!”

“Will do!” said Miss Milano. “Take care now!”

We trotted back out into the open sunlight of the Ponyville afternoon, and I couldn’t help but turn to Button with a grin on my face.

“You know, sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re the same age as me.”

“Shut up, Sweetie Belle,” he grumbled. I stuck my tongue out at him, which merely elicited another grumble.

“Come now, darlings!” beckoned Rarity, entering a brisk trot. “We only have half an hour to get on that train!”

Of course security was gonna be a pain in the ass.

No, seriously. That poor donkey was being pulled aside for a ‘random security check’, despite having lived here for, what, four years now? Not only that, but there were now several guardsmares in Equestrian Transit Security barding, strolling along the queue and verifying everyone’s tickets and identifications with strange magical apparatuses. And, to top it all off, the line was winding outside of the actual train station, so we were just sitting here, baking in the heat! The nerve.

The wait certainly wasn’t doing any favors for Rarity’s present anxiety, either. She kept checking the clock hanging above the security both, prancing about on her hooves as if she desperately needed a restroom break.

“Oh, I really hope I have a chance to use the little fillies’ room before we board the train,” she muttered under her breath.

Damn, were my analogies on point or what?

“It’s okay, Miss Rarity,” Button assured her. “We still have twenty minutes!”

“I know, I know, but— nngh!” She stomped an indignant hoof. “Stars, security never used to be this tight.”

“I don’t even think there was security a few years ago,” I said with a chuckle.

“This blasted little fracas with the gryphons, I swear,” she grumbled, glancing around the station, before her eyes caught several propaganda posters on the wall adjacent to us. “And honestly! The décor here is atrocious! Do they just fling these posters every which way?! They could at least straighten them!”

Her magic aura appeared around one of the haphazardly-placed posters, and she pulled it off the wall, flattening the creases before replacing it in a more upright position.

“There. Much better,” she said with a satisfied smile. “No need for the Princesses to have their lovely visages tarnished by a lazy custodian.”

I stared at the poster in question. It was the same as the ones lining the alley where Diamond and Silver had jumped me.

THE SUN AND STARS WILL PROTECT YOU.

A chill shot down my spine like lightning, and I shivered. The memory of that day was not one I was keen on reliving.

“Whoa, you okay there Sweetie?” asked Button, resting a hoof on my side. Rarity turned her head to me in curiosity.

“Y-yeah,” I replied with a nod and a wave of my hoof. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, um, need to use the little fillies’ room too.”

“Sweetie Belle?! Button?!” came an accented voice to our left, and we all turned to see Apple Bloom and Scootaloo wandering down the street just a ways away.

“Hey girls!” said Button.

“Just got out of school?” I asked them as they trotted up.

“Yeah, we were actually on our way to your place, Sweetie!” replied Scootaloo with a grin. “But… what are you two doing at the line to the train station?”

“We’re going to Manehattan!” exclaimed Button.

“Ya are?! Shucks!” groaned Apple Bloom. “Is that why ya left school at lunch without sayin’ anything?”

“Yep!” he replied. “Miss Cheerilee let me head home early so I could pack!”

“How long will y’all be gone for?”

“Just the weekend, not too long,” I replied.

“Awww,” moaned Scootaloo. “But we wanted to hang out with you this weekend! We haven’t seen you at school in forever!”

“It’s only been, like, two days,” I said. “And I’m sorry, gals. The opportunity kinda came out of nowhere, and I just… I really need to get away from Ponyville for a while.”

“Yeah, I… I reckon ya do,” admitted Apple Bloom, a crestfallen look overcoming her face.

“Why’s Button going with you though?” asked Scootaloo. “Apple Bloom really wanted to hang out with him this weekend.”

“Scoots, hush!” she whined.

“Eternity party!” replied Button, apparently oblivious to the exchange.

“Eternity… party?” asked Scootaloo, eyebrow raised.

“We were invited to a big party being thrown by a group of Eternity players,” I explained. “Lots of video games and stuff.”

“Oh.” Her forehead scrunched for a few moments. “So, uh, an egghead party?”

“Pretty much,” I said with a nod and a chuckle. That was an oxymoron if I’d ever heard one.

“Papers, please,” came a voice to our right.

“Hmm?” Rarity and I glanced up.

“Papers, please,” repeated a stallion in guardsman’s barding. He had apparently strolled up while Rarity was distracted with the poster, and was staring intently at the little device in his hooves.

“Oh! My apologies, ser,” replied Rarity, hastily levitating a few papers and cards out of a side-pocket of her saddlebags and hoofing them to the guard.

“Mhm,” he grunted noncommittally and scanning the papers, before suddenly raising his voice. “Lady Rarity?!”

“Er, yes, that’s me,” she confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh!” He glanced up, flustered. “Oh, my apologies, Lady Rarity, I didn’t realize!”

“It is no trouble, my good ser,” she replied with a casual wave of her hoof.

“But it is! Had I known you were waiting in line all this time, I’d have let you through to the front!”

“Ehehehe,” chuckled Rarity nervously as the heads of several ponies in line swiveled to her, no doubt curious to know who could possibly deserve the privilege of going before them. “I, ah, well… that won’t be necessary, Ser Guard. My status doesn’t entitle me to any special privileges over others.”

“I beg to differ,” he implored. “As the Bearer of Generosity, you have been granted a complimentary ETS Express membership, courtesy of the Princesses, and it applies to you and your charges. The Express queue is right over here.” He waved a hoof towards a near-empty line to our right.

“I… I see,” she replied nervously. “Well, I, ah, suppose it would be rather ill-mannered to refuse the generosity of the Princesses…”

“That it would be, Lady Rarity,” he replied, lifting the rope barrier between the lines. “Right this way.”

As Rarity hesitantly ducked under the rope, I turned to the other Crusaders. “Looks like that’s our cue. We’ll see you guys next week?”

“Yeah, next week!” said Scootaloo, waving a hoof. “Don’t die!”

“Bye, y’all,” said Apple Bloom glumly.

With a last wave, we ducked under the rope and followed Rarity as she trotted towards the security booth. Ponies stared at us as we passed by, a few of them scowling in jealousy.

Stars, did I hate being stared at. I fixed my gaze solely ahead as we approached the guardsmares at the front of the line.

“Your saddlebags, please,” one of them grunted.

“Er… sorry, we were in the express line…”

“That means you get expedited security screening, not a get-out-of-jail-free card,” she explained impatiently.

“Oh! Ahem, very well, my apologies.” She lifted all three of our saddlebags off our backs and passed them to the guardsmare, who began searching through them.

“All weekend?!” shouted a familiar, shrill voice off in the distance.

Everypony’s heads swiveled towards the sound of the shouting. Phew! We weren’t the center of attention anymore!

But what was?

“Silver, we’ve barely spent even a moment together in the last two days!” came the voice again, and I realized why it sounded so familiar: it was Diamond Tiara.

“Goodness gracious, who could possibly be causing such a bedlam?” asked Rarity, trying to peer over the crowd.

“Nopony important,” I grumbled, glancing uneasily at the guardsmare, who was taking her sweet time going through our travel belongings. Even if I couldn’t see those two bullies through the crowd, I didn’t want to be anywhere near them.

“FINE! Go off on your stupid vacation, then! See if I care!”

Vacation? Wait, was somepony she knew leaving Ponyville as well?

As if on cue, a gray filly with silvery braided hair stomped into the Express line far behind us, her face an expression of barely-restrained anger.

Horseapples. Not now, please not now—

Silver Spoon glanced up.

Our eyes met.

Time stopped. The world fell silent. Everything disappeared… except her.

Neither of us moved. No words were exchanged. What was there to say, when you were unexpectedly faced with one of the very last ponies in the world that you wanted to see?

No. She deserved no words. She deserved nothing more than a pure, uninhibited display of my anger.

Her expression morphed into one shock as she processed the fact that I was, in fact, there. No doubt it would turn into a sneer in seconds. I wondered if I could close the distance between us before she could open her mouth in time to sling her first insult. There was about thirty meters’ distance, which I could probably cover in a few seconds at a full sprint. I wasn’t the most athletic pony—certainly not as agile or sturdy as my friends Scootaloo and Apple Bloom—but all those years of Crusading had definitely given me a bit of an edge over other unicorns.

Could I deck an earth pony though? I mean, sure, despite the natural hardiness of her race, she didn’t seem all that strong, and I doubt she got out as much as I did. She was definitely a bit taller than I was, but she was also skinnier. Maybe I could overcome what little extra earth pony resistance she had if I poured the momentum of my running head-start into the force of my punch—

“Sweetie Belle, what’s the matter?”

…Huh?

I swiveled around. Button and Rarity were already past the guardsmare, who was holding my saddlebags before me, an unamused look on her face.

“Get moving, kid, you’re holding up the line.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Without looking back, I grabbed my saddlebags and scampered past the security checkpoint to rejoin my group as they made their way to the station platform.

As the train began to pick up speed. the three of us made our way down the hall, passing along the doors to the private cabins.

“One-fifteen… one-sixteen… one-seventeen!” Rarity slid open the cabin door, and trotted inside. “Looks like this one is ours!”

“Great, awesome,” I said, sliding in behind her and carelessly shucking my saddlebags onto a seat. “So anyways, I really, really gotta go potty, like right now be back in a few!”

“Do hurry, would you?”

Without a moment’s hesitation I backed right out of the doorway and made a beeline straight straight towards the lavatory down the hall, ducking inside and slamming the door shut.

A cold silence fell over the room, enveloping me in its deafening embrace, a stark contrast to my heartbeat reverberating artillery salvos within my skull. I hesitantly approached the mirror over the sink, wondering what chaos-infested demon would return my gaze.

But it was just my familiar green eyes staring back at me, only the barest of twitching eyelids betraying any inner turmoil.

Resting my back against the door, I slid to the floor. Pony hooves had probably been all over it, but I didn’t care. The sharp cold of the tile flooring helped stave off the deluge of frightening thoughts that had occupied my mind over the last few minutes.

Stars, what had come over me? I had actually wanted to charge Silver and punch her. And to be honest, I still kinda did right now! Here I was, on the absolute cusp of being able to escape Ponyville and all of my problems for a weekend, and that damn filly just had to show up. Why?!

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I needed to calm down and think this over. I turned on the sink and splashed some cold water in my face, then took several deep breaths to ease my mind.

There was no reason to get upset. Silver Spoon didn’t have the teats to try anything on me without Diamond nearby, especially not outside of school. That, and she had looked mega-surprised to see me. Maybe she wasn’t trying to follow me around after all?

Besides, I didn’t even know what she was doing at the train station. She might not even have been on the same train.

In time, I felt the anger dissipating. The pounding of my skull receded into a distant, dull rhythm as the rest of my senses regained control, and...

Oh, huh. I guess I really did need to use the restroom after all.

I took my time as I went about my business, giving my mind some much-needed extra space to steady itself and calm down… until a short rattle of the doorknob reminded me that there were others on this train in need of the facilities. Whoops.

Quickly rinsing my hooves and drying them off, I opened the door—

“Finally, do you know how long I’ve been—”

I glanced up.

“Oh dear."

“Oh fuck me.”

Silver Spoon, of all ponies, was standing just outside the door to the lavatory. She winced as my colorful language graced her puerile little ears, and I felt a sublime satisfaction in knowing I had caused her some degree of discomfort. Somehow, that alone was enough to hold my fury at bay… but only barely. I felt a hoof twitch, anxious to leave a bruise so inflamed that her future foals would wince in pain.

For a short moment, neither of us spoke, but it took no time for her wide-eyed expression to darken.

“Sweetie Belle,” she said in a cold tone, her eyes obscured by the light of the sun refracting off her glasses.

“Twatwaffle,” I shot back. Thank you, Freya, for your colorful arsenal of disparaging swears.

“You need not be so crass,” she muttered under her breath, and she tried to step past me into the lavatory.

“Hah. You are gonna try and lecture me about being crass?” I snapped back, holding my ground. “Somepony as vile as you doesn't deserve anything less.”

“Vile?” She puffed up her chest and stared me straight in the eyes with a mock resolve that utterly failed to disarm even a smidgen of her malicious aura. "Ironic, coming from you! You, who left me a bruise that still aches even days after it was so mercilessly delivered in a drunken rage! I, on the other hoof, have done nothing to earn such a—"

“Don't make me laugh!” I growled, slamming the lavatory door shut with a loud WHAM and causing her to jump. “You're one of the most vile, disgusting, sociopathic creatures I've ever had the displeasure of sharing oxygen with. The fact that you're here, right now, is a testament to that.”

“My being here is testament to no such thing—!”

“Then explain to me why you're here!” I challenged, stepping closer.

“My reasons are absolutely none of your business, but if you must know, I am on vacation!” she snapped back, stomping an indignant hoof. “And I would very much appreciate access to the facilities, so if you would kindly—”

“Bullshit!” I pointed a threatening hoof mere inches from her muzzle, and she quailed before me like the feckless coward she was. “Why does it just so happen to be that you of all ponies are here, on the same day, at the same time, aboard the same train, traveling to the same city?!”

“Excuse me, princess, but I have just as much right to be here as you do!” she snarled, slapping my hoof out of her face. Looked like she did have some teats after all!

“Oh, so that means it’s okay for you to follow me around?!”

“Follow you?” She barked a sharp laugh. “What preposterous raillery. What in all the Stars would compel you to even dream that I would purposefully seek out your company?”

“I dunno!” I replied, throwing my arms in the air. “Maybe so you could hound me while I’m trying to get away from you? Maybe so you could pick up dirt to laugh over with Diamond when you get back? Sounds about right, considering you’re just her bitch that does her dirty work!”

Her eye twitched, and she gave me a crooked grin. “If that’s your understanding of my relationship with Diamond, you’re even more simple-minded than I thought.”

“Oh yeah? What, you two shag each other behind the schoolhouse every day during lunch or something?”

“Don’t project your nauseating homoeroticism upon me, Belle,” she said with a cold scowl. “I am nothing like you.”

“Then what?” I challenged her. “All I see is you following her around like a cowardly dog too afraid to do anything without her master.”

“Then you prove just how blind you really are.” Her entire expression darkened as her scowl transformed into a menacing, predatory grin. “I am not the dog, sweet little Belle. I am the master.”

…What even the fuck?

“Believe it or not, there is another pony out there as daft as you are,” she continued, slowly trotting around me. Her tone became mockingly instructive, like Miss Cheerilee during a lesson… except, you know, eviler. “Diamond Tiara is reckless, unimaginative, and blunt. She is a conceited little twerp that acts with all the subtlety and grace of a Gryphosi berserker, motivated by her own self-inflated ego and an incessant need to seek external validation from her peers.”

Her eyes flashed my way with a malevolent gleam, but her lecturing tone did not abate. “Luckily for me, that also means Diamond is a gullible, versatile little tool. She is easily open to suggestion, and acts with uncompromising intent and brute efficiency. I need only supply a proposal with the barest hint of a favorable outcome for her to desperately latch onto it with all the vigor of a starved hound, and proceed to execute it in the most spectacular manner imaginable.”

The filly waved a dramatic arm into the air. “And, when her deeds are done, when several fires blaze in her wake, when she so proudly proclaims herself the sole perpetrator of her crimes, it takes only moments for her collective victims and their witless support to descend upon her like vultures. Predictably, she runs off crying and begging for amnesty from her simpering father, who, with his vast network of connections, can always be relied upon to deliver it at a moment’s notice.

“And where am I, all this time?” she says, trotting up to me and stopping just inches short of her muzzle meeting mine, her eyes sharp like daggers and her teeth bared in a malicious, gleeful grin. “Why, I am safely hidden away in the shadows, watching the dramatics unfold without having broken a sweat.”

I felt a bump at my rear, and I realized that Silver Spoon’s overwhelming presence had unconsciously compelled me into backing up against the wall behind me.

The filly looked completely different. Gone was the image of the hapless little duckling I had once thought her to be. Now, she were at the center of a gaping maw, a vortex sucking the life and color from everything around her.

“All the world’s a stage,” she continued as she trotted to my side, “and all the mares and colts merely playthings. Time and again I set you all up like dominoes, and it takes the merest nudge to send you crashing upon each other in a sea of carefully-orchestrated chaos, while I stand back and laugh.”

She met my gaze once more, her eyes akin to the infinite nothingness of the void beyond the Stars.

“You may think yourself above me, sweet little Belle, but I answer to nopony. Not Diamond, not the Headmaster, and most certainly not you.

“The only pony I answer to… is myself.”

She blinked, then shuddered just a tiny bit.

“Well. Myself and my mortal needs, of course. But I suppose they are one and the same. Good day, Sweetie Belle.”

Silver slid the lavatory door shut with a loud shrrrk, leaving me alone in the hallway, with nothing but the gentle hum of the train engine to accompany the raging inferno in my mind.

Author's Note

Now that I finally have a working computer (and have had my fill of Taken King and Fallout 4), I'm gonna try for a more rapid release schedule with shorter chapters. Next chapter should be up within the week.

|♫| ᴠɪ. The Tribulation

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

A… gryphon player?

“I’m giving you horseturds ‘til the count of three!” it warned, holding its stance from down the street. “One!”

“Just great,” Dovetail muttered under her breath from behind her overturned table.

“Didn’t it say it was from one of those Houses you mentioned?” I asked, crouched behind a wastebin. “Can we just shoot it?”

“No!” she snapped. “She’s just another player! If she really meant any harm, she’d have killed us by now. Besides, I don’t really want to know how long we’ll last against that Thunderlord.”

Thunderlord…?

“TWO!” the gryphon snarled, hefting the gigantic machine gun in its grasp.

Ah. The hulking phallic symbol. Right.

“Okay, okay,” said Dovetail, panicking visibly. “Maybe if we—”

“Will you just calm down, Dovetail?” I said with a roll of my eyes, standing up. “It’s a video game, for Sun’s sake.”

“Huh? Wait, Shadow, what are you—”

“You there, gryphon!” I shouted, stepping out into the sunlight.

The gryphon snapped its sight to me. “Hey! I thought I told you to—”

“Oh come off it already,” I said, holstering my rifle over my back. “If any of us wanted the other dead, there’d have been bodies on the floor ten seconds ago.”

“Hah!” It let out a shriek of laughter. “You say that as if you wouldn’t have been one of—”

“Even if I had been one of them, I would have been resurrected at our last checkpoint, and nothing would have been accomplished,” I dismissed with a shrug. “It’d be a waste of your time and mine if we were to try and kill each other, and truth be told, after wandering around in circles for the last hour, I’m growing rather weary of it. So let’s just drop the pretense, shall we? Maybe we can actually accomplish something meaningful.”

“Oh yeah?” she sneered. “Like what?”

“Well, do you happen to know anything about the…” Blast, what was it called… “What are we looking for again, Dove?”

“The… the Autumn’s Lair…” she muttered from a few meters behind me. “Shadow, what are you doing?”

“Asking for directions,” I answered flatly, then turned back to the gryphon. “Anyways, yes, that thing. Autumn’s Lair. Whatever. We’re looking for it. Do you know of it?”

The gryphon stared back at me, its face scrunched up in confusion. A few moments passed until apparently it regained its composure, though its eyes never strayed from the weapon’s sight. “And just what makes you think I’d share that info, even if I did?”

“Because we also have plenty of information. Perhaps if we compared notes, we’d both be a little closer to finding this place?”

“What do you know?” she demanded.

“Ah-ah-ah,” I chided. “That’s not how this works. We do not volunteer information at gunpoint. Do you see me holding a gun to your face? No.”

“Your friend is still in cover,” she said defensively. “I don’t know what her plan is.”

“Right. Fair. Dovetail, be a dear and come out, would you?”

A groan from behind the table, and eventually Dovetail poked out her ostentatiously-hued mane, weapon holstered.

“Wonderful. So now that we’re all on the same page…?” I gave the gryphon a withering stare.

“Fine.” It slowly lowered the machine gun, though its posture remained defensive. “What do you know about Autumn Lair?”

“Me?” I shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. Dovetail’s the one who actually cares about all this stuff. I just follow her around and shoot things when she asks me to.”

The gryphon gave me a pained expression, before turning to my companion. “You actually play with this guy?”

“Don’t ask,” she grumbled in reply, face buried in a hoof.

Ignoring the comment at my expense, I raised my rifle and made towards the street. “Right! Well then. Since it appears you two are getting along swimmingly, I’ll just stand over there and watch for danger, while you two have your little study buddy session.”

Despite her boorish introduction, the gryphon player was unexpectedly agreeable, and it was thankfully only a few short minutes of hushed conversation before we were on the move once again, now with a third along for the ride. The addition of our gryphon companion turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.

On one hoof, the combined knowledge of my two traveling partners meant we actually had a clearer notion of the Autumn Lair’s location, and thus made our way through the streets of Highcrowne with renewed purpose and speed.

On the other, it also resulted in a non-stop torrent of babbling as the two, for lack of a better description, ‘geeked out’.

“…makes the House of Kings different from, say, the House of Autumn, or any of the other Forlorn Houses?” asked Dovetail with eager curiosity.

“No addiction to Chaotic energies,” explained the gryphon. “When the Chaos was brought into our nation during the Collapse, the Kings refused to partake. The other Houses all succumbed, gained crazy chaos powers, and tried to wipe us out. Those of us that survived fled underground, and only re-emerged a few centuries after the Collapse, once we had recuperated enough strength.”

Pah. This gryphon spoke as if it truly were a product of all this fiction. I hadn’t thought it possible to meet a creature that was even more obsessed with living out this fantasy than Dovetail. But alas! I suppose the world found amusement in surprising me yet again.

“Were the Houses always at each others’ throats?” Dovetail asked.

“Kind of?” The gryphon scratched its chin. “I mean, in real-world Highcrowne, they never really fought each other outside of the Coliseum Royale.”

So the Gryphosi Houses were real. Interesting.

“But it was common for the them to compete in other stuff,” the gryphon continued, “like seeing which one could build the tallest towers in their district.”

“Wow,” said Dovetail in awe as she gazed upwards at the crumbling skyscrapers, many of which still stood regally even after centuries of abandonment. “The gryphons were really obsessed with towers, huh?”

What an astute observation.

“Yeah, well, gryphons like heights,” explained our impromptu guide, who pointed up. “See all those busted stone walkways sticking out of the towers? In real life Highcrowne, there’s a shit-ton of those everywhere. The city has entire networks of streets floating in the skies, connecting all the towers together.”

“Horseapples, that’s amazing,” cooed the star-struck Dovetail.

“Yep! In fact, the city is separated into levels, instead of just blocks like pony cities are. Hel, even this part of the city isn’t ground level. There’s probably entire districts right underneath our feet.”

“No way, that’s crazy!” exclaimed Dovetail like a giddy schoolgirl. “I couldn’t even tell from my airship when we landed here. Most of Highcrowne is shrouded in ash and fog.”

“Heh, that’s probably from all the lava.”

“Lava?” She raised her eyebrow. “Why lava?”

“Well, the real Highcrowne is built inside of a huge caldera.”

“Um, what’s a caldera?” asked Dovetail, cocking her head quizzically.

Stars above, Sweetie Belle.

“It’s a crater,” I droned.

“A big-ass crater,” said the gryphon with a nod. “That’s why there’s so many levels and skyscrapers in Highcrowne. Once the city builders hit the edges of the crater, there was nowhere left to go but up. Gryphon engineering is pretty badass.”

“But… but how does a crater that big that even form?” asked Dovetail, whose expression grew more awestruck with each moment.

“Usually from a massive meteor impact, but more often it’s the mouth of a volcano,” I said.

“A volcano?!” she blurted in shock. “Wait, the gryphons built a city inside a volcano?”

“A dead one!” said the gryphon quickly. “Dead for, like, hundreds of thousands of years. There’s pretty much zero risk of it erupting.”

Right. I’m sure that’s what the Gryphosi government told all of its citizens on a regular basis so they could sleep at night without knowing they rested upon a mattress of landmines.

“But wait,” said Dovetail, her expression twisted in confusion. “If it’s a dead volcano… why did you mention lava?”

“It’s just in this game,” the gryphon said. “Whatever the Chaos did to cause the Collapse all those centuries ago made the volcano erupt, I think. Hel, it’s fucking called the Collapse because of how the Chaos dunked half of Highcrowne in molten lava after it tore open Discord’s torrid asshole right underneath the city. Ponykind probably just snatched up the word to refer to the end of the Golden Age in general.”

Eurgh. This player was not giving me good vibes. It was hideously knowledgeable about Gryphosi culture, and far too passionate to boot… though I supposed I should have seen it coming, considering it would go so far as to choose a gryphon as its character.

Apparently, this sentiment was echoed by Dovetail, who immediately made her curiosity clear. “So wait, how the heck do you know all this stuff, anyways? Are you some kind of Canterlot scholar or something?”

“Heh, Canterlot?” A nervous chuckle. “Why would I live there? I’m from Highcrowne.”

Geh. A Gryphosi sympathizer. Just what we needed.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” piped Dovetail. “So, like, a foreign exchange student?”

“…no, like, born and raised,” it answered hesitantly. “I’m a gryphon in real life.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, and so did Dovetail. We slowly turned to her.

“…What did you just say?” I growled, my voice seething with disbelief.

“What, you deaf or something?” it asked, a little irritation creeping into its voice. “I’m a gryphon, alright? I thought you guys realized! Look, I know you’re ponies and all, but can you please not freak out?”

Dovetail seemed shocked into silence. So I stepped forward and spoke for both of us.

“This whole time, I thought you were a pony playing as a gryphon,” I snarled. “That, at least, would be significantly less shocking! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Okay, dude, you need to chill,” it said, its eyes narrowing like daggers. “Like I said, I didn’t say anything because I thought it was obvious! Why else would I be playing a gryphon if not because I am one?”

“A warning would have been appreciated!” I snapped at her.

“Guys, calm down—”

“What the Hel did you even need a warning for?” it shot back. “Why’s it such a big deal if I’m a gryphon?!”

“Guys! Can we please—”

“Because we’re at war!” I shouted.

“You think I don’t know that?!” it shrieked back at me. “I’m a Legionnaire, for fuck’s sake! I’m sitting on the King-forsaken border between our—!”

“WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP!”

We froze. Slowly, we turned to the tiny little filly that had just overpowered us with her squeaky voice.

“First off,” she began between labored breaths, “we’re not at war. Second of all, Shadow, you can’t seriously give a flying feather that she’s a gryphon—”

“What if I do?” I interrupted her.

“Then stop, or I’m kicking you from my fireteam and you can find your way back to the City alone!” she threatened me without hesitation. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but right now, we’re playing Eternity, and in this game, whatever dumb stupid thing is going on in the real world between the ponies and the gryphons doesn’t exist. We only have one enemy right now, and it’s the Stars-Forsaken House of Flippin’ Autumn, alright?!”

A moment of silence passed…

…until the gryphon let out a goofy snort.

Dovetail suddenly whirled on her. “What? What’s so damn funny?!”

“Whoa, relax, okay?” It held up placating claws. “That was a touching speech and all, and balls, I appreciate it. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?” Dovetail demanded.

“Well, uh…” The gryphon scratched its cheek. “Your pony swears are kinda… I dunno. Cute?”

Dovetail went red. “They’re not cute!”

“…They kinda are,” I pointed out in agreement.

“Grrrr...!” she stomped her hoof and made an angry growling noise…

“Shit!” Suddenly, the gryphon aimed its machine gun at Dovetail, whose eyes widened.

“What the—!”

“Behind you!” the gryphon shouted.

We whirled around, only to find that we had been surrounded by a small platoon of dregs. One of them carried a tall orange banner stitched with strange glyphs upon a pole.

“Shadow! The flag-bearer! NOW!”

I acted almost on instinct, my rifle raised within a split second. Just as the dreg began turning its head towards the sky, I had fired off a round that promptly tore through its open mouth, piercing its throat and killing it instantly.

All at once, the Forlorn unleashed a hail of bullets in response.

“Crap!” Dovetail raised her shield, and I frantically reached for my sidearm.

“MOVE!” came a hawkish shriek behind us.

I whirled around again, only to see the gryphon surging forth with knives in its talons, surrounded by a crackling field of barely-restrained electric power. I leapt out of its way as it raced past me and began brutally tearing into the tiny platoon, unleashing shockwave of arc energy towards the hapless dregs with each slash.

As we watched the gryphon perform its deadly dance, Dovetail exhaled with a breathy sigh. “I love Bladedancers.”

The Forlorn squad barely lasted ten seconds under the onslaught, until at last, the gryphon’s knife came to the throat of the its last member—a Forlorn captain who stood heads and shoulders above its soon-to-be-executioner. He bared his teeth in a hideous scowl.

“Blood traitor,” he spat.

The gryphon tore his throat open, and he crumpled to the ground.

For a moment, the ruins lay silent. The gryphon’s ethereal field of power faded, and it flicked its knives towards the floor, spattering the dust-covered streets with the blood of their Forlorn victims.

“This wasn’t just an ordinary patrol,” the gryphon grunted, tearing the banner off the the dreg that I had slain and turning back to us. “That was a vexillum. Standard-bearers, war-criers. You managed to nail it before it could alert the home base, but they’re gonna notice when this patrol doesn’t report in. We gotta make ourselves scarce, right now.”

“Does that mean we’re getting close?” Dovetail asked as we swiftly departed the scene of the short-lived battle.

“Yes,” grunted the gryphon. “They wouldn’t have vexillum anywhere but near the entrance to their stronghold. All we need to do is keep our eyes out for signs of where they’re regrouping.”

“How do you even know all this?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Uh, duh, Legionnaire.”

“Oh… right.”

An uncomfortable silence befell the group as we were swiftly reminded of the… unusual reality of our company.

After a few moments, the gryphon whirled around and spread its wings. “We need to find another patrol and tail ‘em back to their stronghold. I’ll go north. You two scout south. Stay out of sight, and hit me on comms if you see anything.”

Without another word, she bounded up towards the roofs of the nearby buildings and stalked out of sight.

“Well, looks like it’s just the two of us again,” said Dovetail. “She was fun. I like her.”

"Here's my question, Dovetail," I said, turning to her. “Whatever happened to the multitude of other friends you had mentioned? Didn't you say they would be joining us?"

“Well, I dunno about Zaid,” said Dovetail as she resumed her trot down the street, “but Button’s got extracurricular lessons today.”

Button? He played this game with—? Oh, who was I kidding, of course he did.

“I don’t know your friends by name,” I pointed out, causing her to freeze. She then looked up at me with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, right! Sorry. Um, Zaid’s a stallion I met a few days ago. He’s from Saddle Arabia, and he’s always working, so his schedule’s a little bit wack compared to ours.”

Sadul-Arabia, huh. “That would make sense. Their legal working hours are a great deal more intense than ours.”

“Er, yeah, that.” Dovetail glanced about for a moment as we approached an intersection, before trotting down the street to our right. “Are you familiar with Saddle Arabia?”

I was, yes. After all, my family’s company did have international branches, and the vast deserts of the distant caliphate were quite the literal goldmine that we were quick to exploit once the international trade agreements had relaxed just enough for it to be profitable to us.

But she didn’t need to know that.

“I am.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “That’s cool.”

‘Cool’.

That was certainly the last word I would have ascribed to the Arabi, whose culture repulsed me to my very core. Their nation was overflowing with political corruption, violent unrest, and religious strife, no doubt symptoms of its purely-male ruling body. How very primitive for such a ‘developed’ nation.

I was willing to bet that the Silversmith Mining Company represented the lion’s share of contemporary civility in Sadul-Arabia. That the nation even dealt with us was beyond my comprehension… but perhaps it merely spoke of my mother’s unbridled purchasing power. After all, Sterling Silver was a mare of staggering wealth and success, two things which would certainly give pause to even the most misogynistic of caliphs.

But… Sweetie Belle and a Sadul-Arabi? Now that was a mystery I was itching to solve.

Unlike this silly fictional House of Autumn.

“I’m surprised this… ‘friend’ of yours wants to spend time with you.”

“Huh?” She glanced at me over her tome. “Why’s that?”

“The Sadul-Arabi do not hold women in high regard.”

Her expression only grew more puzzled. “Um, why wouldn’t they?”

“Ask your ‘friend’,” I said, the final word laced with sarcasm. “I imagine he would be far better a representative of his ‘people’ than I.”

Oh yes. Let him be the one to reveal to you all of the horrifying, disgusting, suppressive practices of the Sadul-Arabi, such that I may relish in the merciless ravaging of Sweetie Belle’s naïveté.

“Well, I guess I can, but he’s been cool so far,” she said with a shrug. “Teases me a lot, sure, but mostly just about my size. Never because I’m a girl.”

Alas. You were far too trusting, Dovetail. That you had embraced me, a viper in disguise, was a testament to that fact.

“And what of this Button?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“A classmate of mine,” she explained, as she returned her focus to the tome. “He’s, uh, a little bit of a goofball, but I love him all the same—”

“Love him?” Ooh, this was a juicy bit of gossip.

“Yeah, he’s one of my best friends,” she continued without missing a beat. Clearly my emphatic use of the word ‘love’ had gone far over her head. “Got me into this game and everything—”

Suddenly she stopped, ears twitching madly as she glanced up.

“Something wrong?”

“Shh!” Dovetail’s foreleg shot up, her magnum already free of its holster. She snuck around a bend and, after a peek, waved me forward.

I joined her at the bend and saw what she saw: a small platoon of Forlorn soldiers, one carrying a golden house banner.

Wasting no further time, Dovetail pinged her communicator.

“We found ‘em.”

Author's Note

As part of my promise to deliver more rapid updates, I'm going to experiment with a new format (as suggested by many of my commenters over in my self-critique blog post here), wherein I release Shadow Song's flashback scenes separately from the meat of the chapter. Hopefully this also makes the transitions between past and present less jarring, and separates the story into more digestible chunks.

If this format flows better, then I'll retroactively update all previous chapters to match. Let me know what you think in the comments.

12. Not Like the Others

“Tell the Warlocks your cloak is frabjous.
They respect words they don't understand.”
—Frumious Cloak

S W E E T I E B E L L E

“Silver Spoon?!” exclaimed Rarity, her gigantic hat wiggling precariously on her head.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, leaning my head against the glass window of the cabin. “Right outside the bathroom.”

“So that was her that Diamond Tiara was arguing with outside the train station,” surmised Button.

“Yep. I dunno what happened between the two, but Silver Spoon’s on this train alone. A vacation, she said.”

“Did you find out why they were yelling at each other?”

“Not a clue. I wasn’t exactly hankering for conversation with Silver.”

“But you did converse, by the sound of it,” said Rarity.

Unfortunately, I did. And it had sent my mind on a rollercoaster.

If Silver Spoon’s words were true, then I had completely misjudged the dynamic between her and Diamond Tiara. Sure, I despised the filly purely by association, but most of my frustration hadn’t been directed at her. And, all things considered, Silver’s attitude towards me and the Crusaders had calmed substantially over the years.

However, her revelation just now essentially told me that it was her I should have been concerned with this entire time, that she was the one responsible for the lion’s share of my problems with the duo.

More importantly, it meant that I was dealing with a far more cunning filly than I could ever have imagined. It had never even crossed my mind that she was the more dangerous of the two. Which meant that, at any given time, she could be up to something and I might never know. Even now. She may have claimed that she was merely on vacation… but was she, really?

I shuddered as wisps of her suffocating presence lingered on my mind. But I decided not to mention that Silver Spoon pretty much lectured me into a corner. I didn’t want Rarity to worry.

“She didn’t hurt you at all, did she?” asked Rarity, apparently having noticed my discomfort anyways.

“Heh, nah. I was probably closer to hurting her than she was me,” I said with a morose chuckle. When Rarity’s expression strained, I quickly waved my hooves to placate her. “Not that I did! She didn’t seem keen on a fight, and neither was I.”

“Good.” Rarity visibly relaxed. “If that filly so much as touches a hair on your coat, so help me…”

“Still, it’s weird,” muttered Button under his breath.

“What is?” I asked him.

“Why is she going to Manehattan? Don’t you think it’s strange that she’s on the same train as us?”

“That’s what I asked her,” I explained. “She didn’t really go into it, only that she was on vacation.”

“Like you two are,” Rarity pointed out.

“Right,” I agreed. “But now we know she’s here, so if she was planning on pulling anything, she’s lost the element of surprise. And Diamond isn’t with her either—usually Silver doesn’t make any moves unless they’re with each other. Honestly, I’m inclined to believe she’s actually coming to Manehattan of her own whimsy, and it has nothing to do with us.”

Or so I thought.

“I’d be wary of her nonetheless,” said Rarity, apparently thinking the same thing. “Stars only know what that filly could be planning.”

“You talk about her like she’s some evil mustache-twirling comic book villain,” I said with a giggle.

“That… actually, that gives me an idea for Miss Prosperity,” said Button as he eased back into his seat.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He gave me a wide grin. “Add Silver and Diamond as raid bosses.”

Night had fallen by the time we had arrived in Central Station, and, thankfully, we did not run into Silver Spoon again. Upon reaching street-side, we found that a light rain had come and gone, blanketing every exposed surface of the city in moisture.

It was beautiful.

While Manehattan wasn’t my favorite city by any stretch of the imagination—that honor went to Canterlot City, with its majestic spires and ancient antiquity—I had walked its streets several times in the past, and it had always been a busy, chaotic affair. But the rainfall had driven most of its citizens inside, leaving the streets mostly bare, save for the scant few out for an evening stroll. It lent the city an air of romantic calm that I had never experienced before.

Gas lamps flickered with a merry glow, their light reflecting off the damp sidewalk. Somewhere, a band was performing a spirit-lifting jazz tune, infusing my gait with newfound energy. Ambrosial aromas wafted from several open-door storefronts, teasing my nose with promises of succulent suppers and baked goods of a variety beyond counting.

“Ooh, that smells positively divine,” cooed Rarity, her own muzzle turned skyward as she sought to capture another fleeting whiff of that savory odor.

“Yeah, when can we stop for dinner?” asked Button, always straight to the point.

“Fret not, Button, dear. I have a particular restaurant in mind that I believe you two would positively adore—”

Suddenly she stopped. I glanced back at her, noticing that her eyes were transfixed to a window display we had passed only moments before. I turned and peered inside along with her. Inside was a podium with several ponnequins perched upon it, all flaunting several dress designs—some rather ornate, others tastefully conservative.

“By the Sun and Stars… this is Surely Suede!” exclaimed Rarity in excitement. “Owned by the one-and-only Suri Polomare, one of Bridleway’s up-and-coming designers! I had heard tell of her premiering a retail location soon, but I hadn’t realized it was already open!”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess that you want to go inside,” I said teasingly.

“Do I!” she pranced in place, then turned to us with a pleading look. “Surely you two wouldn’t be opposed to a momentary diversion? I must peruse her wares!”

I glanced at Button, who gave a defeated sigh and a shrug.

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Just don’t call me Shirley—”

One excited squee was Rarity’s last exhalation before she bolted into the store.

“Maaare,” whined Button, “I hope she doesn’t spend too long in there, I’m hungry!”.

“Heh, well, knowing her, I doubt we’ll be out anytime soon. She just loves to cozy up with the designers.”

“Awwww…”

“Oh, quit your whining. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Fine…”

Inside, the store gave off a warm, welcoming feel—it was lit in soft yellow tones, its architecture defined by clean angles and sweeping curves. Several sparkling dresses rotating on self-powered stands were placed tastefully throughout, and Rarity was darting from one to the next, oohing and ahhing at each piece in turn.

“Ooh, the dress worn by Juniper Jolly at the Spring Sovereign Soiree! And the three-piece ensemble for the lead role of Hinny in the Hills!”

“You seem to know a lot about my pieces!” came a laid-back voice, and we all turned to face the pink-coated mare that had emerged from the back room. “It’s great to finally meet a pony that’s heard of me before!”

“How could I not have?!” said Rarity, rushing up to shake her hoof. “You’re only the fastest-rising designer in all of Bridleway!”

“Say, you look familiar too?” surmised the mare, scrutinizing Rarity closely. “Didn’t some of your pieces appear as a subhead in last year’s Fashion Week contest article?”

“Why yes, those were indeed mine!”

“I knew it! I absolutely adored the velvet accents on your ‘Spring has Sprung’ line…”

While the two mares gabbed away about everything and nothing, I wandered aimlessly along the stands. There was a lot of variety between the dresses, sometimes to extreme levels. A fair number were indescribably ornate, laden with gemstones and glittering fabrics that caught the light like disco balls. Others were soft and inoffensive, at most only daring for a few ribbons and frills.

Oddly enough, I found Button staring up at one of the latter.

“Found something you like?” I asked him as I approached.

“It’s pretty,” he droned, apparently captivated. I looked at the dress in question—it was a loose-fitting affair, a white one-piece dress with a wavy flounced skirt and pink petticoat. There were only a few extra frills and accessories—pink ribbons here and there, a pair of faux gossamer wings, a single golden star brooch hanging from a lacy choker—but its modesty lent itself well to the overall design.

‘Floaty’ was one of the few words I could use to describe it.

“Heh.” I turned to Button. “I’d say it suits you pretty well.”

He shot me a look, his face flush with red. “H-hey, that’s not funny! It’s not like I want it for myself.”

“Why not? I think you’d look good in it!”

“I think it’d look way better on you than me!” he snapped back.

H-huh?! Me? In that dress?! “No way! You’re full of it!”

“I agree with your friend,” came a soft voice from behind. A petite mare with a light tan coat approached us, her glittering eyes transfixed onto me. “The flowing waves accent your curls well, and its colors are a perfect complement to your coat.”

“Er…” I blinked once at the newcomer. “Pardon, you are…?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said demurely, moving a few strands of her short cyan mane out of her eyes. “My name is Coco Pommel. I’m Suri’s assistant, and the designer of that dress.”

“I really like it, Miss Coco!” said Button with a gleaming grin. “It’s really pretty!”

“I have to say, I do too,” I agreed, causing a delicate smile to form on the mare’s lips. “I mean, I don’t know much about fashion, but this one is definitely a lot less gaudy than the other ones in the shop.”

“I like to think it helps balance out the other ensembles,” she explained, stepping up to the podium and adjusting one of the frills with a gentle caress. “I mean, it’s fine if a pony wants to inspire awe with a spectacular dress. But I didn’t want this one to overwhelm the natural beauty of the pony wearing it. So I felt that I had to approach its design with a softer, more delicate touch—”

“—called for a softer, more delicate touch,” a bright voice pervaded our conversation, causing Miss Coco to wince. We turned to see Rarity and Miss Suri approaching, engaged in conversation. “And that’s why I wanted to design one that didn’t overwhelm a pony’s natural beauty!”

“Why, isn’t this the dress that took this year’s Fashion Week by storm?” asked Rarity as she laid eyes on the dress.

“Yes, yes it is! The flagship ensemble from the ‘Starlet Sonata’ line! I had to pare back a bit too—a lot of designers these days are going full-gaudy, but my conservative approach saved the day!”

“Yes indeed, it’s very tasteful in its restraint!” Rarity agreed.

Well, that certainly sounded familiar. Ignoring my deja-vu, I glanced at Miss Coco, who thus far had made no attempt to refute Miss Suri’s claim—her eyes were downcast, locked to the floor, and she remained dead silent.

This poor mare…

“Sweetie Belle, Button!” Rarity piped up as she spotted us on her approach. “Were you two looking at this one as well?”

“We were,” I said with a nod.

“Hey, waitaminute,” said Button with a confused glance towards Miss Suri. “You said you designed this?”

“That I did!”

I noticed Miss Coco’s eyes widen with panic, and she shot a look at Button, who by now was already primed with his reply.

“Miss Coco said—”

I immediately rushed forward, plugging Button’s mouth up with a hoof. Rarity and Miss Suri raised an eyebrow, and I just returned it with a sheepish grin.

“Why, whatever is the matter, Sweetie Belle?”

“Nothing!” I yelped, my voice squeaking a few octaves out of range. “Button was just, uhh… well, he was just gonna say something kinda embarrassing and stupid like he usually does!”

“Hey!”

“But he mentioned my assistant by name,” pointed out Miss Suri, rounding on the mare in question. “What, exactly, did ‘Miss Coco’ say?”

“Umm…!” whimpered Miss Coco, giving me a worried glance.

What?! What was I supposed to do?! C’mon, think…!

“She agreed with Button!” I blurted. “Umm, when he said, um… whenhesaidthedresswouldlookgoodonme.”

All three of the mares stared at me, and I made an extra effort to look just a tad bit embarrassed to help really pull off the lie-that-actually-wasn’t-a-lie-at-all, hey, way to go!

“Is that so,” said Miss Suri with a thoughtful hum, turning to her assistant again with a narrowed gaze.

“Mhm,” mumbled Miss Coco with a relieved nod. “I felt like the loose flowing waves would be a perfect accompaniment to the curly styling of her—”

“Thank you, assistant,” snapped Miss Suri, cutting her off. “Your opinion has been noted.”

Miss Coco shrunk. “O-of course, Suri.”

Yeouch. I wondered if Miss Suri knew how obvious it was that she mistreated her assistant.

“Er, beg pardon,” Rarity interjected, stepping forward. “But I find her assessment to be most astute, and I’m deathly curious to see if it holds any water. You wouldn’t happen to have a dress like this in Sweetie Belle’s size on hoof, would you?”

“Hmm, good question.” Miss Suri tapped a hoof to her chin, then began trotting to the back. “Coco, give me a hoof, mkay?”

“O-okay.”

The two mares trotted towards the back, and as they ducked out of sight, Button immediately made to follow them.

“Button? Where are you—”

“Shh!” He held up a hoof, then motioned me to follow. I glanced back at Rarity, who was busy examining the dress up close, then silently followed Button as he made his way to the back room doorway, from which emanated the timid voice of Miss Coco.

“...would have to stay up all night to retrofit a dress to a filly’s proportions—”

“Then do it!” growled Miss Suri’s voice. “I don’t pay you to argue with me, I pay you to get things done, mkay?! Do you realize how important this client is? How do you even think she got into the Fashion Week article with such trashy designs? Obviously because she’s an Element Bearer, mkay?!”

“Of course, Miss Suri, but tomorrow I had plans with my sister—”

“Oh, this moment will make my career! The daughter of an Element Bearer, wearing one of my designs!”

“I understand, Miss Suri—”

“Oh, you and I happened to fall upon the best of luck, Coco! Soon, I’ll be on top of the world, and you’ll be right there with me!”

“Yes, Miss Suri…”

“Now, here’s the plan: you take the filly’s measurements, and I’ll talk to the mare to see how many bits we can extort out of somepony as rich as she totally has to be—though honestly, the exposure could do wonders on its own…”

Button tugged at my leg, motioning for me to go. We stepped away from the doorway and quickly started to make our way back to the dress display.

“What a two-bit creep,” muttered Button. “Lying her way to the top. I hate ponies like that.”

“Yeah…”

Rarity turned to us as we approached, her eyes narrowed. “Well? What did you overhear?”

Uh? How did she—

“Are you rich, Miss Rarity?” Button asked quickly, glancing over his shoulder.

She blinked in surprise. “Er, well… I’m not poor…”

“Miss Suri thinks you’re rich, and that you’ll pay a lot for the dress.”

“Which she’d be forcing her assistant to stay up all night to fit for me,” I added.

Rarity stared off into the distance for a moment, but eventually sighed. “Very well. Thank you for the warning.”

“You’re not planning on buying the dress, are you?” I asked her. “I don’t need a dress, and a mare like that doesn’t deserve your money.”

“Well, despite my station’s… relative antiquity, I do have some sway as the Bearer of Generosity,” Rarity said with a wink as the two mares approached. “We shall see.”

“Miss Rarity!” exclaimed Miss Suri, approaching the mare quickly. “Turns out, we do have a size that we could have fitted for your daughter, though as we’re about to close, it would likely take us until morning…”

“If you would please come this way,” said Miss Coco, gesturing in the direction of the fitting rooms. I glanced at Button, who gave me a curt nod, then fell into step behind the mare as she trotted back to one of the rear fitting rooms.

When we were safely out of earshot and behind several curtains, she promptly began taking some of my measurements.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she lifted one of my forelegs. “And thank you for the save.”

“You can’t possibly be okay with any of this,” I said flatly.

She froze, then gave me a disarming smile. “Sorry? With what?”

“With the way that witch treats you.”

Miss Coco flinched. “She’s not a witch, she’s just… a little harsh.”

“Shutting you down when you try to talk? Keeping you up all night so you can make dresses for her? Stealing your designs and using them to win contests—”

“Please,” she interrupted me, her face becoming stern. “Enough.”

I immediately fell silent, and the mare continued taking my measurements.

“There are a lot of things I don’t like about this job… or about my boss. But she pays well, and she’s a lot better at marketing my designs than I am. I wouldn’t be anywhere if it weren’t for her. It isn’t perfect… but it’s better than nothing.”

“But can’t you do anything about it? There has to be something.”

“If only the world were so kind,” she said with a sad smile. “You’re young, Miss…”

“Sweetie Belle.”

“Miss Belle. And there’s a lot in this world to look forward to. But… there are some things you can’t change, I guess. And some ponies too. You’re going to meet ponies like that someday, and the only thing you can do is deal with them for as long as they’re there.”

Images of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon flashed across my mind.

“Yeah…”

“All set,” Miss Coco said, putting the tape measure down. “I should get started if I want this done by tomorrow morning.”

“But we haven’t even agreed to buy it yet.”

“I doubt Miss Suri will let you leave the shop without it, even if it means giving it away for free,” assured Miss Coco, though she looked less than elated by the prospect. “Worry not. It’s enough to know that a sweet little filly like you will be wearing one of my designs. Now go on back to your mother.”

“Sister,” I corrected.

“Er. Right. Sister.” Her cheeks tinted rose. “My apologies.”

“It’s fine. See you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow it is.”

I turned towards the exit, but stopped and looked back. Miss Coco was writing some things down on a notepad—I could almost see the bags beginning to form under her eyes.

Without a second thought, I walked back up to her and threw my arms around her neck—she froze in place, almost dropping her notepad.

“Thank you, Miss Coco,” I said quietly. “And good luck.”

Before she could utter a word in response, I let go and promptly trotted out of the fitting room.

We finally entered the lobby to our hotel—a lovingly-decorated affair, complete with center chandelier and posh seating every which way—and I gave a sigh of relief. Supposedly, our hotel had only been a few minutes’ trot from Miss Suri’s shop, but our stroll had felt more like a few hours, thanks to Rarity’s non-stop chattering about her interactions with Suri.

Heh. Maybe Rarity was a Hex Goblin, and she was actually chanting some kind of time-dilation incantation or something.

“…and it turns out, Suri even has several connections with the Board of Directors for Cirque du Pone!” finished Rarity with an excited squee. “Not only that, but they’ll be having dinner tonight downtown, and she gracefully extended an invite my way to join them!”

“Small world,” I said, only half-listening because holy fuzzballs was I sick of hearing about that stupid mare.

“Oh posh,” she replied as she signaled a bellhop, who promptly rolled over a luggage cart. “It doesn’t surprise me at all that she would have connections with my potential employers, considering her renown within the Bridleway community. She’s done a multitude of ensembles for the same troupe in the past.”

“Yeah, except I wonder how much of it she really did herself,” grumbled Button, offloading his bags onto the cart. “She seems to like taking all the credit for her assistant’s designs,”

“And who knows if Miss Coco was even the first?” I added.

“Very true,” Rarity agreed as she promptly dumped all her luggage on the bellboy. Ouch. “The mere notion that she would take advantage of her apprentice in such a manner is just… ooh, it infuriates me to my core! And I’m so very glad that you two were enterprising enough to ascertain the truth of it all. After what we’ve discovered tonight, we shan’t be consorting with her ilk for longer than necessary.”

“Why do we have to with her in the first place? She’s a scumbag.”

“Yes, well…” Rarity gave a long sigh. “Associating with Suri will benefit me for the time being. I’ll accept her invitation, head to tonight’s dinner, and meet with Cirque du Pone myself. Then tomorrow, we’ll pick up the dress, and after all is said and done, we can wash our hooves of the crooked mare.”

“Hey, waitaminute!” Button said suddenly. “Dinner? So you’re not taking us to get food?” asked Button.

“Nice to know where your priorities lie,” I said with a grin.

“Pro tip, Sweetie Belle: we can’t live without food,” he said, sticking a tongue out at me.

“Yes, I realize that, and I’m ever so sorry,” Rarity said apologetically, “but I very much wish to take this opportunity and connect with my potential employers early. I’ll give you a little extra for room service, is that fair?”

“Works for me,” I said with a shrug.

“Yay, food!” exclaimed Button.

“Splendid! Glad we worked that out.” Rarity unzipped one of the bags atop the bellboy and floated out a multitude of items, including a scarf and beret that she promptly donned, and a small collection of coins, some of which went to the poor bellhop. The rest floated straight over to us, along with a small piece of paper. “Anyways, I best get going, otherwise I’ll be late! Here’s the check-in confirmation and enough bits to cover for dinner.”

“Thanks, sis,” I said, accepting the things with my own magic. “Good luck with the troupe, and see you later tonight!”

“You two as well!”

She turned towards the entrance, then froze for a moment, before suddenly whirling on Button with a narrowed glare.

“And you best not be trying any funny business while I’m gone, young man.”

“H-huh?!” he uttered, flinching at the mare’s imperious gaze. “Wait, what do you—”

“R-Rarity!” I shoved her towards the door as I felt my face burn up. “Shut up and get going already!”

“Toodles!” She darted out the front door.

“Finally.”

I turned to Button, who was still frozen stock-still, staring with an expression of abject terror at the spot that Rarity had occupied only moments before.

“Ugh, c’mon, let’s get going,” I grunted, grabbing his hoof and dragging him off to the check-out counter.

“I think your sister wants to kill me…” he muttered, drunkenly stumbling along.

Lights.

Our room was one of the highest in the hotel, and for the last half hour or so, I had curled up on the edge of the bed nearest the window, picking at our left-over room service and staring out at the city before me.

For miles and miles, there was nothing but lights. Lights from the gas lamps lining the streets below. Lights from carriages as they made their way to destinations unknown. Lights from apartments in distant skyscrapers, where families gathered to share a supper with their beloveds. Every single light was a pony, with their own laundry list of worries, problems, hopes, and dreams. Every single light was a story, enough to fill the Canterlot Archives a hundred times over.

And I wasn’t even seeing all of them. Far beyond the edges of the city, beyond the distant borders of Equestria, there were millions of other people, just like me, living and dying and loving.

Compared to all that… my own problems seemed so small and insignificant. I was just one filly, whose biggest worries were a couple of jerks at school and some half-baked excuse for a cutie mark.

I didn’t have it bad. I had friends who breathed life and color into my world. I had a sister who loved and cherished me.

Could my life be better, easier, a little more painless? Sure.

But right here? Right now?

Things were alright.

…

Well, as long as I didn’t have to randomly run into Silver Spoon again.

I stared off towards the lights again. Any of them could have been her. What did a filly like her do in her spare time? What was she up to right now?

Heh… probably kicking some poor bellhop around like an abandoned puppy.

I heard a door swing open behind me, followed by the soft pitter-patter of my friend’s hoofsteps as he emerged from the shower.

“Phew! I needed that,” came Button’s voice as he trotted up behind me. “Hope you don’t mind if I borrowed a bit of your shampoo, Sweetie. I forgot to bring my own, and the hotel’s is always crap.”

“Hey, no skin off my coat,” I said with a shrug. “As long as you don’t mind your mane smelling like fresh lilacs in summer.”

“Better than some unholy union of Tomahawk Body Spray and Summit Springs soda.”

I grinned. “Point taken.”

A silent pause.

“Something up?” he asked without warning.

“Hm?” I turned to him. His expression, barely lit by the lights outside the window, was one of curious concern.

“Usually you don’t stare out windows like that unless you’re being deep,” he said simply.

‘That’s what she said,’ echoed Scootaloo’s voice in my head, causing me to snort.

“W-what?!” he said, stepping back with a bewildered expression. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” Chasing off my last few giggles, I waved a hoof, then patted the empty spot next to me. “Just thinking.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He crawled onto the bed and sat down beside me. “What abouts?”

“Everything,” I muttered. “And nothing.”

“…Uh, okay then.”

Another pause. He turned to stare out the window too.

“This about Silver Spoon?” he asked.

Well… actually, kinda, yeah. I would’ve been lying if I said she hadn’t come to mind just a few moments ago.

“I got the feeling you weren’t telling us the whole story about what happened on the train,” he ventured.

“No,” I admitted. “I wasn’t.”

“And you ran off kinda fast, too.”

“Button, I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t explain the angry wheezing.”

“…What?”

“You were panting like you had just run a mile, with this crazy look on your face that said ‘I want to kill something’.”

…

“Stars above, was I that obvious?”

“Kinda?” His face scrunched up, and he stared at the ceiling for a bit. “It was a little scary. Like, it wasn’t super bad, but it reminded me of that day in the schoolyard when you decked Diamond.”

He turned to me again, with an expression of genuine concern that was... supremely uncharacteristic of him.

“You know, Button, you’ve been pretty on-point today.”

“Huh?” His eyes crossed for a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. First this. Then the whole me being ‘deep’ or whatever. Then sneaking off to eavesdrop on Miss Suri…”

“Oh c’mon, it’s not like I’m crazy spacey or something!” he snapped with an indignant glare.

“I dunno,” I said with a giggle. “I’d say ‘spacey’ describes you pretty well.”

“What?! I— hey!” He growled, stomping a hoof. “A colt can have his moments, can’t he?!”

I giggled, but I knew he was right. He wasn’t stupid. Well… not always.

Shortly after we began playing Eternitytogether about a year ago, I had quickly come to realize that Button wasn't the total dope I took him to be in real life. He was great at analyzing and figuring things out, which did wonders to help us figure out a lot of the mysteries tucked into the corners of the game—finding ages-old weapons, discovering hidden enemy strongholds, unearthing the world’s long-forgotten histories that had been buried by the fall of the Golden Age.

And, after a while, I had realized that it wasn’t just in-game, either. He was just as resourceful, clever, and super-committed in real life. Even if he didn’t seem the type, I knew I could always count on him if I needed to vent about life stuff. I didn't know how he did it, but he always seemed really confident about everything he put his mind to. He never seemed to doubt himself, or hesitate.

Sure, he annoyed the crap out of me sometimes. But it was really nice to have him as a friend.

“Sorry, Button," I said with a smile. "I guess I’m still trying to get used to you going all ‘serious mode’ on me.”

“Well excuse me if I’m worried about you,” he grinned, sticking his tongue out at me. But his face became stern again. “And don’t change the subject. What happened on the train? Why did you look so mad?”

Guh. Did we really have to talk about this?

Well… okay. I guess Button, of all ponies, deserved to know. He was one of the Crusaders, after all.

“I dunno,” I muttered. “When I saw Silver Spoon at the security line, I just felt this… this fire inside of me. Like I wanted to break something. If Rarity hadn’t called out to me, I might have.”

“You saw her at the security line?”

“Yeah. She was the one Diamond was yelling at just before we got through the security checkpoint. And then, when we got on the train, I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom. I just needed to get away for a bit so I could calm down. Splash some water on my face, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. But how did you run into Silver?”

“She was waiting in front of the door when I got out.”

“Waiting? For you?” His eyebrows creased in worry and anger.

“No, no!” I waved my hooves to placate him. “Not for me. She was just waiting for her turn to use the bathroom, that’s all. I don’t think she knew I was the one inside.”

Button’s head tilted in doubt. “Are you sure?”

…That was actually a pretty good question.

“I mean, she looked surprised when I opened the door,” I said, trying to remember. “But now that you mention it… no, I can’t say that I am sure. Especially not after what she told me.”

Button said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

So I did. I explained to him pretty much everything that Silver had mentioned—how she manipulated Diamond into unwittingly doing what she wanted, and then used her friend’s ego as a distraction to not get in trouble once shit hit the fan.

Button remained stone-faced throughout the explanation, not commenting even once, just staring off into space. And when I was finished, he was silent for a few moments, ruminating.

“Wow,” he eventually said. “That seems to fit perfectly.”

“Does it?”

“Well, yeah. Whenever Diamond gets in trouble, Silver always gets off scot-free. Didn’t you ever wonder why?"

“Honestly, no. I only realized it after she mentioned it. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.”

He shrugged. "I mean, she could be lying.”

"She could,” I replied, hesitant. “But what would she get out of lying to us?"

“What does she get out of telling us anything in the first place?”

That was true. If Silver Spoon wanted to keep herself on the down low and out of trouble… why did she tell me? Why did she disclose her level of involvement? No doubt she knew that revealing her true colors would make me all the more suspicious of her in the future.

“Maybe she wants to save face?" I ventured. "Maybe she really is whipped, but she doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of me, so she puts up this façade of being the super-secret mastermind or something.”

"That doesn't seem right. The way you explained it, she sounded super-duper confident and in control."

"Yeah. She really did. Like, evilly confident."

"’Evilly’ isn't a word, Sweetie Belle."

"What are you, a dictionary?"

"Only on Fridays and Mondays," he said with a grin. We both chuckled a bit, and then fell silent once more.

"Stars, I almost feel sorry for Diamond," I said quietly. "To be used like that by her best friend? I wonder if she has any idea."

"Well, if she does, Diamond seems to be perfectly okay with it. And they're both scumbags anyways, so if she gets hurt by it, no biggie."

"Hear hear," I agreed.

"Not like that poor Miss Coco..." he said glumly.

That… was weird. And kinda random. "Miss Coco?"

"Yeah. She comes up with all these pretty designs, then gets all the credit taken away from her by Miss Suri. It's kinda the same thing with Silver and Diamond, except Silver wants Diamond to take the credit."

Oh. That made sense. "I... wow. I didn't even realize the similarity there. Yeah, that deal really sucks no matter how you spin it."

Suddenly, Button gave me a deathly serious look. "If ponies ask, you're gonna tell them the truth, right?"

Huh? Where was this coming from, all of a sudden? "Ask what?"

"If anypony asks who made you that dress, you'll tell them Miss Coco did and not Miss Suri, right?"

Oh Stars. The look on his face was so honest, so stern, so genuine. He was really, really serious about this! It was kinda cute how much he cared, and I couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

"H-hey!" His face flushed with a tinge of red.

"Sorry, sorry!" I chuckled a little more, then regained control of myself. "Of course, Button. You know I would."

He smiled, then settled down on his side of the bed, staring out the window again. "Good. She deserves it for making such a pretty dress."

"Yeah, she does."

Which reminded me...

"Hey, Button?"

"Yeah?" He turned to me, eyebrow quirked.

"Back in the shop," I asked slowly, "were you serious when you said that dress would look good on me?"

Almost instantly, the color drained from his face, leaving just a rosy tint to his cheeks. "Ummm...!"

“What’s there to be embarrassed about?” I implored. “Just tell me straight up—"

"Yes I did I thought you'd look super pretty in it please don't take that the wrong way or anything I'm sorry I don't mean anything by it!" he yelped all at once, shielding his face with his arms.

"Huh?!" I moved towards him, giggling a bit. "Button, what are you—"

Wait.

Wait a minute.

Did he just...?

Oh... oh no. Please don't tell me...

It was only then that realized how very, very little space there was between us on the bed.

Apparently he noticed too, because all it took was a tiny peek from his eyes before he was suddenly flailing his arms and tumbling off of the bed.

“WuwhoAAHHHH—” Thump. "Owww!"

"Button?! Button, are you okay—?"

His hooves popped up and latched onto the edge of the bed, followed by the top of his head, which stopped short of revealing his muzzle.

"Yeah, I'm— I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice muffled.

“Button, c’mon, get up here,” I said, grabbing one of his hooves and tugging at it. He reluctantly climbed onto the bed.

“Sorry…” he muttered.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said with a strained chuckle. “Just… just be honest with me. What’s got you so worked up? Why are you so embarrassed?”

His face grew redder and redder. Finally, he took a deep breath and began to speak, not once meeting my eyes.

“Okay, look. I’ll tell you, but… but it’s really, really stupid. Please don’t laugh at me or anything, okay? I’m only saying it because it’s you, and because you asked, and because I really, really trust you, and we’ve been through a lot, and you’re one of my best friends ever, and—”

“Button, please!” I interrupted, feeling my face grow hot. “Get to the point!”

He took in another deep breath to steady himself. As he did so, I couldn’t help but wonder: was I ready for this? Did I really want to hear his answer?

…Well, yeah! Heck yeah, I did! I mean, of all ponies?! Him? Did he really?

I mean, okay, I guess it wasn’t that big of a stretch. We didspend a lot of time together, after all, and we shared a lot of the same interests. And he’d always been there for me, and supported me when I felt down, and defended me…

...oh no.

No, no no no no no.

What was going on?! I’ve never had feelings for him before! Was I seriously trying to justify it for myself? Could somepony like me fall in love this quickly? It had only been a few seconds since I had even considered it for the first time! This sort of thing usually took time, right? Right?!

Oh Stars, he was opening his mouth, he was about to say it, he really was!

I squeezed my eyes tight and braced myself for the bombshell that was surely about to strike.

“I… I like…”

He likes… he likes…!

“…I like girly things.”

…

What.

I stared at him.

“You… you like girly things,” I repeated, just to be sure I heard him right.

“…Y-yeah.”

…

“What.”

“H-huh?!” he stammered in bewilderment. “Whaddaya mean, ‘what’? I said what I said!”

“Yeah, but it’s just so…”

“So…?”

“So…”

Were there even words to describe what I was feeling? It was like all the butterflies in my stomach had shriveled up and spontaneously died, driven extinct by the extraterrestrial meteor that had been Button’s admission.

Actually, a meteor was being too generous. Global extinction events were at least climactic.

“I don’t get it,” I finally declared.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s there not to get? I like girly stuff. Like, dresses and ribbons and bows and pink and—”

“No, no, I get that,” I deadpanned. “I mean, it’s still kinda shocking, but I get that.”

“Then what’s the problem? What don’t you get?”

“I dunno!” I said, exasperated at trying to explain myself. “I don’t get why, like… why you built that up so much! I thought you were gonna say something completely different!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Different in what way?”

“Umm…”

Yeah, uh, let’s not answer that.

“Like… bigger. Something that was a bigger deal.”

He blinked. “You mean… it’s not a big deal to you?”

“What, that you like girly stuff?” I almost laughed, but I held it in, not wanting to hurt my friend’s feelings. “I mean, it kinda came out of left field, but no, it’s not a big deal to me. I don’t think it’s a big deal to anyone, Button.”

He stared at me, blinking, as if he had no idea what to make of the creature before him.

Then his eyes fell, and he heaved a sigh.

“Were it so easy,” he finally said.

Waitaminute. Isn’t that a…? Ah, forget it, not important. “Button, what do you mean?”

He looked up again, this time with a deathly serious look on his face. “Sweetie, how long have we known each other?”

“What does that have to do with—”

“Just answer the question,” he interrupted.

Yikes. Well, uh, okay then.

I tried to think back to when I first met his family, which… felt like forever ago, but I guess that wasn’t really true.

“…Well, I left Fillydelphia to move in with my sister when I was ten. I remember meeting Apple Bloom and Scootaloo when I started going to school, but you didn’t transfer in until I was… eleven? Something like that?”

“Yeah. Just me and my mom. From Baltimare.”

Huh. I… didn’t actually know that. He hadn’t mentioned it when he moved here. Then again, he and I hadn’t really talked much at first, either.

“Why did your mom decide to move here?” I asked.

“A lot of reasons. She told me it was just because she wanted to live somewhere quieter. Less traffic, less craziness, stuff like that. I don’t think that was it, though.”

“Maybe some of it had to do with the gryphons?” I suggested.

“Maybe,” he said. “It was prolly a buncha things, really. But deep down… I knew I was the big reason why.”

“You?” I blinked. “What did you have to do with moving away from Baltimare? Was it something you did?”

He chuckled sadly. “More like something I didn’t do.”

What could possibly be so bad as to make his mom want to move out of Baltimare? Did he rob stores or deal drugs or something?

…How well did I really know my friend?

I suppose I was about to find out. Silently, I waited for him to continue, and I didn’t need to wait long for him to gather his courage.

“You already know my dad died when I was really little,” he began.

“Right,” I said, remembering the picture on the end table.

“And since I didn’t have any siblings, it was just me and mom for as long as I can remember.” He shuffled his legs a bit. “Since she was working all the time, I didn’t see her a lot. Most days I just played a lot of video games, stuff my dad used to own. Mom would buy me more too. Just to keep me busy while she wasn’t home.”

“You… didn’t have a nanny or anything?”

“Couldn’t afford it,” he shrugged.

“Wow. That’s completelydifferent from my life. My parents always had each day planned out, down to the very second.”

“Yeah…”

“So your mom just let you do whatever?”

“Kinda? Not really. I wasn’t really allowed to go out, so I didn’t really make many friends growing up. I… heh, I was a pretty quiet kid.”

I smirked. “Obviously that didn’t last.”

He rolled his eyes, but continued. “Nah. Things changed when mom got a new job as a nanny for this other filly that was a little older than me. Since it was a house-call thing, mom would just take me along with her whenever she went to work.”

“So you weren’t alone all the time anymore?”

“Nope. I got to hang out with mom pretty much every day. And the girl she was taking care of, too.”

He had a little playmate growing up? That was cute. “What was her name?”

“Palette.”

“Did you get along with her?”

Button’s expression became… wistful? “Yeah, like you wouldn’t believe. She was sorta like an older sister to me. We’d play together all the time, she’d teach me all kinds of things, and she even introduced me to all her friends.”

“Aww, sounds like somepony was a lil’ filly-killer,” I giggled, nudging him in the shoulder.

He gave me a flat look. “No, Sweetie Belle. I was, like, six.”

“Sure, whatever, Romeo,” I teased. “So while you weren’t busy sweeping them off their feet, what were you doing?”

He seemed to ignore that comment. “Same things fillies always did together. You know… braided hair, played with dolls, made bead bracelets…”

I blinked. “Oh. So you pretty much grew up around fillies?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“And you picked up girly habits and interests and stuff?”

“Pretty much.”

Well. That made sense. Explained why he always got along so well with us, too. “I guess it’s no accident you joined the Crusaders, is it?”

“Huh? What do you—” His eyes crossed for a second. “Awwwww, crap.”

I giggled. Spacey as ever, Button.

“Hey, gimme a break,” he whined. “At least Apple Bloom and Scootaloo aren’t super girly like you.”

“Pfft! No excuses,” I sing-songed. “Still though. You get along better with fillies. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Yeah, keyword you,” he clarified.

“Someone didn’t?”

He sighed. “A lot of people didn’t. It was when I started going to school. Those girls didn’t go to the same one I did, so I didn’t have a lot of friends there.”

“But you still had them as friends, right?”

“For a little while. But then a few years in, Palette didn’t need a nanny anymore, so the job was over, and we… I guess we just started seeing each other less and less. They didn’t live very close, so I couldn’t just hang with them whenever I wanted.”

That sounded… awful. Having a huge group of friends that made you happy, only for them to disappear? “How did you handle it?”

“I… kinda went back to being super quiet after that,” he continued. “Mom got a new job somewhere else, and so I just went back to playing video games all the time. I… kinda wasn’t really happy with her for a while after that.”

“Why? It wasn’t her fault.”

“Sweetie Belle, I didn’t know any better back then. All I knew was that, well, one day I had friends, and the next I didn’t. And the only thing changed was my mom’s job. So I just… I blamed her for it. We started getting into fights. Stuff like that. And it was just… like that for a few years.”

“Years? Yeesh, was it that bad?”

“It wasn’t bad,” he asserted, “it just… wasn’t like it was before. I’d get mad at her for taking away my old friends, and she’d shoot back by telling me to make new ones at school.”

“Well, why didn’t you? Was it really hard to make friends at school or something?”

“I dunno. Things just weren’t the same. People avoided me. They thought I was weird. Thing is, growing up the way I did… I didn’t know that anything about me was weird. I thought the things I did with those girls was normal. And I had no idea how to act around other boys.”

“Your mom must have understood though, right?”

“Hah. No. She didn’t understand at all. The fights just got worse and worse, and eventually she was so fed up with me that she… she signed me up for the school’s hoofball league.”

My eyes widened. “You? On a hoofball team? How the heck did you manage that?”

“I don’t know how,” he answered, his tone becoming flatter as he spoke. “I think mom just fought really hard with the coach to give me a chance. So he did. And suddenly, there I was, surrounded by a bunch of guys, who were all, like, super-competitive and stuff. Laughing, making dirty jokes in the locker room… It was a totally different world. And I couldn’t play either. I sucked. I couldn’t run as fast, ram as hard, or anything.”

Uh-oh. “You told your mom, right?”

“She didn’t care,” Button replied, his voice growing thin. “Every time I told her how much I hated it, she just kept telling me to try harder, to ‘man up’ and deal with it.”

“Stars…” That was... I had no idea. Miss Milano never seemed like that before.

“And I really tried, too. Kept training to get to everyone else’s level. I’d ask them for help too. But none of them would. They just kept giving me shit, told me I was holding them back. The coach, too. He hated me. None of them wanted me there. But mom insisted. Always got into fights with the coach, just to keep me onboard. All of the other boys knew her, started calling her the ‘dragon mom’ because how often they’d hear her from the locker room.”

“There’s no way that could have lasted,” I said. “That had to fall apart eventually. Right?”

He didn’t respond.

“…Button?”

“She struck a deal with the coach,” he whispered, his voice dangerously hollow. “‘He’ll play the big game, and he’ll prove you wrong.’”

Oh no.

“The entire school showed up. They all saw the game. And they watched as I screwed up everything.”

Oh no.

His ears folded down in humiliation. “Every day became a living Hel after that. I was a laughingstock. The other colts wouldn’t stop bullying me. I quit the team, but it was too late. It spread to the rest of the school, to all of my classmates.” His body began to shudder. “They all teased me. Called me names. Called me a faggot, or gay, or a girl. Made fun of the things I liked, and the stuff I did, and the way I talked, and my clothes, and my hobbies. And they hit me… hurt me… hurt my… my…”

The next few words caught in his throat, and he let out a strangled choking noise. His eyes shot up to meet mine, and it was only when the moonlight cast a glow upon his contorted face that I saw his eyes glistening with tears.

Oh, no no no no no.

Without hesitation, I lurched forward, threw my forelegs around his neck, and embraced him in the tightest hug I possibly could, just as the dam broke and he began sobbing uncontrollably into my shoulder.

“Shhh… shhh.” I began running a comforting hoof down his back. “Button… I’m sorry, I had no idea…”

I felt so helpless, unable to say anything. Every phrase that came to mind felt so overused, so meaningless, mere platitudes.

There weren’t any words I could spare. All I could do was hold him.

Several long, terse moments passed as he sat there, crying, any further words long swept away by his tears as they soaked into my coat.

How could I have known he was hiding all of this? That this is what he had been dealing with before moving to Ponyville?

This… this was so different from the Button I knew. The Button I knew was loud. Confident. Stubborn. Reckless, even. But he seemed fearless. Like he just didn’t give a shit.

But the colt in my arms felt… fragile.

And so I held him tighter.

As the minutes passed, the hotel room began to grow a little chilly. So, never letting go, I slowly brought us down onto our sides on the bed, drawing the covers over us. Whether he objected or not, he didn’t make it known.

Eventually the sobs began to subside, but even then, neither of us spoke, or made any noise, aside from an errant sniffle here and there. I never loosened my grip, and he never made to move away.

But finally, after who knows how much time had passed as we sat there in silence, he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” he said, his voice rough and slightly muffled against my coat.

“Sorry for what?” I asked, keeping my voice low and even.

“I didn’t… didn’t mean to dump all of that on you at once. I’ve just… never told anypony about any of that before, besides my mom.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him. “So she finally understood?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, she understood. And that’s part of why we moved to Ponyville. To get away. Go somewhere quieter, smaller.”

“I’m glad she did.” I scooted back a little and gave him some room to wipe his face. “And I’m glad you could get that all off your chest.”

“Heh. Yeah.” He smiled up at me with bloodshot eyes, then grimaced. “Crap. And onto yours. Sorry for getting your coat dirty, Sweetie…”

“‘Pretty girls aren’t hurt by water,’” I joked, in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Yeah.” He darted his eyes away. “Wish I knew what that was like.”

I blinked. “Button…?”

“Sorry… never mind. There’s just some things I’m not really sure I’m ready to talk about yet.”

There was more? Stars… how much could this poor colt possibly have bottled up?

“You don’t have to,” I assured him. “You don’t need to tell me anything.”

“I know, but…” He locked eyes with me. “I trust you, Sweetie Belle. More than anypony else I know in the whole world. And I don’t like keeping things from you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, putting a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “I don’t expect anything from you. But you’ll always have my ear when you need it. Just take your time, and tell me when you feel right and ready.”

“Yeah.” He sniffed, then smiled. “Yeah, I will.”

I smiled back, then closed my eyes. Just to filter all the thoughts running in my mind for a moment.

“Sweetie Belle?”

“Mm?” I opened them again, and saw he was staring back at me.

“…Thanks.”

“For?”

“Nothing.” He flushed a little. “Just… thanks. For being such a good friend.”

Button…

I held my arms open again. He hesitated for a few moments… but eventually obliged, curling up against me. It took a bit of adjustment, but we finally settled into a comfortable position. It wasn’t much longer until he dozed off.

…Heh. Only a few minutes ago I was freaking out about maybe having a crush on him. Even the thought of so much as touching him probably would have made my coat hairs stand on end.

But as I held him, all I could feel was just this… overwhelming sense of warmth flooding my body. Knowing that I had a friend who trusted me, who I could always be there for, and who I could expect to always be there for me in return… it was enough to still my heart.

Did I have feelings for him? I didn’t know. But I knew that I loved him. As a brother, or as a friend, or as something more… I didn’t care, and it didn’t matter. I was just happy to have him in my life.

It was with that thought in my mind that I slowly… finally, drifted off to sleep.

… … …

… …

…

“…WHAT IN EQUESTRIA DO YOU TWO THINK YOU’RE DOING? GET OUT OF THAT BED THIS INSTANT!”

…Are you fucking serious right now, Rarity.

Author's Note

RIP fancy chapter titles. Grrr.

Fun fact: this and the last 2 chapters took me four months to write. I got to this point in, like, September, then sat on it and realized I hated it and couldn't figure out how to go about fixing it, so I wrote a million versions of this scene, including one that involved a screwed-up backstory for Button's mom that was too ridiculous in its psychopathy to be realistic so I scrapped it entirely. Didn't help that I was at one point utterly paralyzed by indecision and self-doubt and... oh right, computer explodey thingy.

So yeah! Great turnaround time, right guys?

...Guys?

Oh, another fun fact: Remember that outline I posted? Yeah, I suck at sticking to outlines. I somehow managed to stuff three entire chapters between 9 and 10.

Ah well. I'm excited to get writing Vision of Confluence, since that's the climax of this entire arc. Hopefully that means it'll go by faster.

... Hahahahahahahahahahhahahahahaha

|♫| ᴠɪɪ. The Union

Note: This chapter was updated on June 3, 2020, to coincide with changes being made in a future chapter. These changes begin at the line "Yeah, it’s a Frigate-class". Feel free to use Ctrl/Cmd+F to jump to that section in the chapter.

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

“BLOOD TRAITOR!” cried a Forlorn dreg, moments before his throat was slashed open by a furious Bladedancer.

“Where is the Kell of Autumn?!” she shouted. “Where is Drakkaris?!”

“She’s really into this, isn’t she,” I said in half-wonder, half-disbelief.

“It’s kinda cool,” Dovetail replied, watching in awe.

“You would think that, Dovetail,” I sighed, raising my rifle and sniping another dreg in the head before it could open fire upon us with its wire rifle.

“No, you idiots, I’m asking you!” she roared, bringing her Thunderlord to bear against an onslaught of charging foes and mowing them down in seconds.

“How the hay are we supposed to know?!” Dovetail snapped back at the gryphon. “He scampered off seconds after we ran in!”

“I knew we should have taken the stealthy approach,” I muttered.

“Too late for that now,” said Dovetail with a shrug, shield-bashing another dreg as it attempted to charge us. “What now, Miss Gryphon?!”

“Just keep moving!” snapped the gryphon, pushing forward. “And my name is Freya!”

It had been hours since we located the long-obscured Autumn’s Lair, a sprawling labyrinth weaving its way through a massive complex of seemingly-abandoned Gryphosi towers. Since then, we’d been tearing through the enemy forces with extreme prejudice, climbing up the towers and sky-roads and ascending higher through the city of Highcrowne, finally managing to fight our way into a massive hangar bay near the top of the highest tower.

As we stepped out the bay doors onto the drydock, we were greeted with a view over a huge swath of the city in all of its dilapidated glory. We had climbed high enough to pierce through most of the fog and ash that pervaded the city, leaving us with the sight of hundreds of towers piercing out from beneath the clouds, of crumbling concrete highways and roads crisscrossing between them. It was a scene that enraptured a certain attention-stunted filly as soon as she laid eyes upon it.

“Holy Horseapples,” she muttered in amazement.

“Not the time for sightseeing, ya damn horse!” snapped Freya as she swiftly executed the last Forlorn with a knife to the chest before throwing it off the edge, letting it plunge into the mists below.

“But nopony’s ever reached this level of Highcrowne before!” Dovetail cried in dismay, throwing her limbs out towards the scenic view. “Something causes our engines to short out and our ships rapidly lose altitude if we so much as even dare fly near it! We always have to enter on hoof!”

“Yeah, well maybe when we’re not getting shot at trying to chase down the megalomaniacal leader of a House full of Chaos-addled psychos, you can take a longer look! Hel, maybe I’ll show you the real thing someday!”

This caused Dovetail to whirl around, stars glimmering in her eyes. “Would you?! Really?”

“We’re at war,” I deadpanned.

“Ohhhh, riiiiiight, that thing.” The gryphon grinned, as if fully knowing the absurdity of her own words. “Tell ya what kid, let’s put a raincheck on that one.”

I groaned. “Girls, we have far more important things to concern ourselves over. Like that.”

They turned to follow my outstretched hoof. Before us, moored to the dock, was a massive airship, surely five times the size of our own personal dirigibles. It was heavily decorated with tattered but gracefully flowing flags and banners, all adorned with the colors and sigil of the House of Autumn.

“Wowsers,” said Dovetail. “Is that a ketch?”

“A what?” I asked her.

“Mid-sized intercontinental Forlorn airship,” came Freya's rapid-fire reply. She let out a low whistle. “And this one is decked out.”

“Heh, ‘decked’,” Dovetail giggled. “It’s funny because it’s a ship.”

“Shut up, pony.”

“The décor is rather tasteful,” I admitted, admiring the aura of regality emanating from the ship’s garlanded hull.

“No ship would be that over-decorated,” said Freya slowly, “unless it was meant for…”

“Does the sight of our great Highcrowne inspire awe in you, little pony?” sneered a cold, screechy voice, and we glanced towards the ramp leading into the ship’s innards.

Before the ramp towered a monster, a gryphon three times our size, whose wingspan stretched beyond all reasonable expectation. Its eyes were glowing with an otherworldly greenish tint, and its beak was curved into a malevolent grin.

“Yep,” finished Freya. “Definitely the Kell’s flagship.”

“Behold, the rusted jewel of our glorious civilization,” monologued the Kell, casting its talons across the expanse of the city, “brought to ruin by our own hubris, by our own misguided kin, blood traitors of the wing! Your ancestors chose against the ways, refused to embrace the…”

I heard not another word of the creature’s sprawling diatribe, during which it gesticulated dramatically with its talons and wings. My eyes instead drifted towards the weapon held effortlessly in its grasp.

I couldn’t help but release a breath at what I saw.

A sleek, imposing piece with a dark hardwood frame and a steel barrel, the scopeless rifle was intimidating in its sheer size—easily twice my height and then some. Pockmarked by what seemed to be so many centuries of wear and tear, it looked ancient and weathered even by real life standards, and it was likely a miracle the weapon still functioned—or perhaps a testament to the love and care extended to it by its countless owners across the ages. There was a coarse, rustic sort of beauty to the rifle’s ageless design, one that spoke of steadfast tradition, of unwavering loyalty, of a million soldiers who waged a billion battles across all of known history and far beyond.

It also looked like it could blow huge holes in things.

I felt a delightful shudder run through my spine. Oooh, yes. That prospect made me positively salivate.

And so it was thus that—as the ‘Kell of Kells’ or suchlike waxed philosophical about the Great Mistake of the Blood Traitors or whatever brought the mighty Gryphosi Kingdom to ruin or some-such—I raised my rifle and promptly discharged a magnetically-accelerated chunk of screaming hot metal straight between its eyes.

PING.

The round bounced cleanly off its metal faceplate, with naught but a single dimple to mark the impact.

Its droning tangential tirade interrupted, the creature howled bloody murder, its cry piercing beyond the confines of the hangar, across the ruins of the city, reflecting off every tower with ominous intent.

“Dude…” growled Freya. “What the fuck.”

I shrugged. “Oops?”

“YOUR FIGHT ENDS HERE, CRUSADERS!” it roared, spittle flying from its mouth. “YOUR INSOLENCE SHALL BE YOUR UNDOING!”

Without warning, a deluge of Forlorn soldiers burst forth from everywhere—pouring out of the ship, crawling from the wetwork, emerging from behind crates and doors—and swarmed our position all at once.

“Hayseed!” swore Dovetail, throwing up her shield to block some of the incoming fire.

“Drakkaris is making a run for it!” shouted Freya. With a glance, I saw the Kell charging up the boarding ramp into the bowels of the Ketch, and our pursuit was blocked by the encroaching swarm.

“There’s too many of ‘em! The hay are we supposed to do now?!”

“Stand aside.”

I strode past my allies and began walking purposefully towards the onslaught, my hooves leaving swirling dark energies in their wake. Slowly, I began to build up speed and momentum, until finally I broke into a full run.

By now, the enemy blitz had focused onto me, their gunfire swiveling to halt my passage. But they could do nothing to resist their fate.

With a booming thrust from my hooves, I leapt into the air and swept my forearms before my would-be assailants. Tendrils of purple energy lanced out at those nearest to me, lashing the hapless dregs by the neck and sucking their chaotic life energies from every exposed orifice.

Like the conductor of a grand, deathly symphony, I weaved my hooves methodically in the air, tracing inscrutable patterns that directed the swirling energies into a massive, erratically pulsing ball that glowed blindingly bright with barely-contained ethereal power.

I lifted a single hoof and brought it down hard upon the churning orb. It burst apart into a dozen daggered fragments, and a final flourish of my hoof sent them screaming like a hailstorm towards the onslaught before me. Piercing through bodies and embedding themselves into whatever surfaces they touched, they violently detonated with deafening force that knocked my victims on their feet, and then promptly collapsed into pulsating singularities that began to slowly drag them inwards. The Forlorn warriors caught in the gravitational pull could do nothing but scream in terror as their bodies lost all atomic structure and collapsed in on themselves before being sucked into the gaping void of nothingness.

Within moments, the singularities had devoured all they could, and one by one they winked into non-existence, along with any trace of Forlorn within fifty meters.

Slowly, I lowered myself to the ground, my hooves landing on the deck with a soft clip-clop.

“That’s what we do,” I said simply, dusting off my hooves as I turned to my awestruck allies.

“Dude…” Freya stared at me blankly. “When’d you learn to do that?”

“Mmmm… an hour ago? I unlocked the necessary skills while we were climbing the towers. Figured I’d withhold it until necessary.”

“Wow,” said Dovetail in awe.

Were you surprised, little Sweetie Belle? Were you shocked that I could so quickly supersede your might, so mercilessly devour our foes that their presence was naught but a passing mote of atomized dust in the swirling mists of space and time?

Withhold your applause, please. We've work to do.

“And now we proceed.” With a hoof, I gestured towards the ship.

As if on cue, a burning roar tore through the hangar, causing us to swivel back towards the ketch. Its engines had suddenly ignited, and already the boarding ramp was beginning to separate from the deck.

“SHIT!” swore Freya.

“Move, move, move!” shouted Dovetail, and we all charged down the dock, leaping off the edge and firing the thrusters on our legs and wings. With mere inches to spare, we slammed onto the boarding ramp and promptly clamored our way onto the deck of the airship, just as it broke free of the docking bay.

“That was way too close,” grunted Freya.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” I said, standing up and dusting off my cloak.

She scoffed and readied her machine gun. “Dramatic close shaves are for Applewood pony stars, not Gryphosi legionnaires.”

I raised an eyebrow. “This is a video game. In all likelihood it is scripted to be cinematic.”

“Speaking of scripted,” snapped Dovetail urgently, waving her hand cannon towards the front, “am I the only one seeing that wave of bad guys crawling out of the cargo bay? You know, the one rushing us right now and we should probably shut up and start shooting?”

Ah. Right.

We promptly began advancing up the deck and into the loading bay of the ship. Swarms of Chaos-touched gryphons attempted to impede our progress, but despite the momentary break, it took us no time to settle back into the comfortable routine of battle, unleashing waves of Light and molten lead against the Kell’s forces, who proved no match for us and the combined might of our fireteam.

Trotting through the twisting corridors of the ship with momentum and purpose, we passed by engine rooms, armories, living quarters, bathing areas, and recreational facilities. Though the ship’s industrial framework resembled that of most angular gryphon architecture, the innards seemed overtly ornate, as though it were made for residence rather than purely transport or warfare.

“Swank digs,” quipped Freya with a passing whistle of admiration as we swept past a well-furnished lounging area that looked suspiciously lived-in. “The House of Kings has a few ketches here and there, but not even the High Talon own one this fancy.”

“The Kell would live in opulence while the rest of his people languish in squalor,” spat Dovetail.

“Huh.” Freya blinked, turning to me. “I thought you were the one who normally talked like that.”

“Only for important, non-fictional matters,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hoof.

The gryphon grimaced in confusion. “Why do you even play—? You know, never mind. I’m not even gonna try to figure you out. You ass-backwards weirdo.”

“The sentiment is shared, you unapologetic nerd. Isn’t your species supposed to be fearsome and warrior-like? What are you even doing here?”

“We like to have fun,” she said with a sneer. “‘Cause, you know, we don’t make a habit of shoving sticks up our own asses.”

How dare you—

“Eyes up, Crusaders,” interrupted Dovetail. “This is it.”

We turned to Dovetail, who was standing before a doorway at the top of a decorated stairwell.

“The bridge,” said Freya. “After you, milady.”

“Me first?” Dovetail scowled. “Why?”

“You’re the Titan. You punch things in the face.”

“Grrr…”

If Dovetail had any further protest, she kept it to herself. She strode towards the door, which slid open without further resistance.

“One would think that the Kell would lock the doors so as to prevent his impending demise,” I muttered.

“He probably thinks he can’t be beat,” suggested Freya.

“Or maybe he wants to show off how fancy his airship is,” said Dovetail, stepping into the bridge and gazing around at the lavish decorations.

I wouldn’t have blamed him. It was a multi-story room, with catwalks rising on the left and right and banners hanging from virtually every outcropping. A bookcase leaned against one wall, stocked full with ancient tomes. Another had a shelf brimming with trophies and weapons, no doubt gathered by the Kell over his war-mongering career. The center of the room featured a holographic navigational chart, shattered pieces of our broken world floating ethereally above the surface.

And past that, on a raised platform, was the central control helm, before which the Kell himself stood, gazing upon us in contempt. He spat at our approach.

“You trespass upon the Throne of Autumn,” he scowled. “You think yourselves clever for having found me. But your triumphs end here. Our fight is between the Houses of Gryphos, and you Crusaders of the Everfree would do well not to meddle in affairs beyond your ken.”

“You say that, Drakkaris, Kell of Autumn,” snapped Dovetail, “and yet you still saw fit to bombard the City at the Battle of the Eventide Chasm.”

What? Eventide Chasm? Whatever, more importantly, was she well and truly responding to him? “Dovetail, he’s just a console prog—”

“You are a young Crusader, almost a child,” the Kell responded, to my surprise, “and Eventide Chasm was no doubt before your time. What meaning does a faded memory have to you who did not live to experience it?”

…I had to admit, this dialogue sequence was rather impressive, if it could dynamically respond to conversational cues in this manner. And my two fireteam members proved to be quite the willing participants.

“You fought my people, and tens of thousands fell,” she replied, her tone curt and tense. “Our City burned, and the House of Autumn was to blame. To this day we still suffer the after-effects of your campaign.”

“As were the Demons and the Kings!” the Kell shouted, pointing a threatening talon at our gryphon companion. “They as well participated in the Battle, yet even now you stand beside a King!”

Freya did not quail under his gaze. “The last Kell was a substandard leader. Foolish and reckless, he sought to wage war against New Everfree to secure whatever technology they had in their possession to aid in his fight for Highcrowne. He died a miserable and pitiful death in the field, and his dishonored corpse was left for dead. Needless to say, the House of Kings has a new Kell, one less foolish—”

“And less ambitious,” Drakkaris interrupted with a warbling chuckle. “Have the Kings fallen so far that they now accept help from the pathetic pony Crusaders?" His claws outstretched, he turned to me, clearly addressing me directly. "You, silent pony. What foolishness brought you to my doorstep? Why align yourself with the aberrant Kings?”

“Your gun.”

Every person in the room turned to me, and almost unanimously uttered: “What?”

“Your. Gun,” I repeated, slowly, as if talking to children. “The rifle you wield. I want it.”

The creature clicked its beak in a staccato of irritation. “You fight for no cause besides your own? Pursue no ends beyond material greed—?!”

“Can we hurry it up?” I interrupted, growing weary of humoring a fictional construct. “This aimless tête-à-tête holds precious little interest to me.”

At that, Drakkaris roared in outrage. “Your disgraceful presence insults my honor! And the Kell of Kells does not suffer insults lightly!”

With a snap of his talon and a wave of his wing, several Forlorn warriors emerged from hiding. Two Captains in ornate armor took up defensive positions around the helm, several sniper vandals appeared on elevated platforms on the far side of the room, and a multitude of dregs emerged from doorways on the left and right to fill the remaining space.

Oh dear.

“Shit,” Freya swore.

“What, you didn’t see that coming?” remarked Dovetail.

“End them,” growled the Kell.

All at once, they opened fire.

Immediately, I dodged to the right and sprinted behind several crates of cargo. Wire rounds bit into the other side, slowly picking away at my cover.

“So, uh, some help would be really freaking nice right now!” shouted the filly from her entrenched spot in the middle of the bridge room—she had elected to maintain position, where a swath of enemy gunfire from beyond the navigation display had her pinned down behind her shield.

“Working on it!” I yelled back.

Though, admittedly, I wasn’t sure what to do. The Forlorn had caught us by surprise, and the gryphon and I had immediately scattered in opposite directions. Neither of us could provide adequate cover fire to assist our teammate, and a potential advance would probably be met with a rain of high-caliber rounds from the snipers in the far back of the room

“Um, guys?!” came Dovetail’s voice again, panic much more evident in her voice.

“Pah, we don’t have time for this,” the gryphon said. “Batpony! Head upstairs and try to get a better vantage point!”

“Excuse me, I’m an umbra!”

“Whatever, just go!”

“Fine!”

Loathe as I was to take orders from a gryphon of all things, any more time spent waiting would leave Dovetail a perforated corpse. Stealing off towards the side, I made my way up a staircase and emerged on a balcony with a clear view of the rest of the bridge room.

From here, I immediately took stock of the number of enemies—four dregs advancing from the ground, backed by two Captains guarding the Kell's throne, and three sniper vandals perched upon catwalks towards the back … one of which had its eyes on me, the glint of its sniper scope reflecting in the sunlight.

Immediately I ducked back behind the wall, just in time for its edge to be disintegrated by a high-caliber round.

“Gah! Snipers at eleven, one, and two o’clock!” I coughed through the plume of pulverized wood that had sprayed me in the face. “Could use suppressing fire, gryphon!”

“My name’s Freya, damn it!” I heard her yell back as the roar of the formidable Thunderlord tore into the air. Plumes of dust surged all around us as the gryphon unleashed a deathly stream of electrified lead in all directions.

“Nailed eleven, one is weak!” she yelled as her weapon spun down.

I poked my head out again and immediately brought my rifle to bear on the catwalk furthest on the left, where a spiked pauldron was only barely visible from over the edge of the railing. My chevrons drifted south, just below the edge, and…

POW!

The rifle bucked against my shoulders, hard, but my aim had been true—my shots tore straight through the weakened wood of the railing, dispatching the creature on the other side in an instant.

“Vandal One down!”

“Two is on you right now!”

My rifle snapped to the vandal on the right… who had already brought its rifle to bear.

P-POW!

Two shots rang out as we exchanged fire within nanoseconds of each other, and my vision suddenly flared white-and-red from searing pain as a round tore through my shoulder.

Gritting my teeth, I concentrated through the pain and frantically reacquired my target, only to find that my round had already torn the vandal’s head clean off. A sizzling stream of ether burst from the hole in the gryphon’s neck as it keeled over the railing and ragdolled into the open bridge area below, causing the nearby dregs to shriek in fear.

“Now’s our chance!” Freya shouted from below, her voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears and the angry blaring of my armor’s low-health alarm.

“Up and over!” yelled Dovetail, tossing a grenade over her shield towards the center of the oncoming horde. It instantly flared with a bright explosion, blinding the Forlorn in the room. “Push forward!”

I quickly raised my rifle once more and loosed a single high-caliber round into the abdomen of a stunned dreg further in the back, then slung the spent weapon over my shoulder and drew my sidearm. With a galloping start, I leapt over the railing and ignited my levitation boosters, gliding over the room as I poured lead into the dazed retinue below. Several dregs fell, but not before they could fire off a few dying barks from their weapons, some of which lanced across my already-wounded body.

Just as I crested over the cover of the remaining Captain, I cut all power to my glide, plummeting forehooves-first upon the Forlorn with a meaty splack. I lashed out with a single hoof and forced the creature to the ground by its throat. It took only moments for my vampiric powers to take hold and begin to wrench the life energies out of the wretched creature. The Chaotic glow winked out from its eyes, and twisting energies swirled up my arm and around my form, resolving in a flickering layer of energy that cascaded over my body, closing my wounds shut in mere milliseconds and protecting me from further harm.

The energy shield materialized just in time for Drakkaris, still standing tall and imposing upon the center platform, to turn its magnificent weapon upon me.

Oh dear.

POW.

The report of the ancient sniper rifle reverberated painfully in the close quarters of the bridge, deafening me to my surroundings—a pain that was immediately followed by a splitting ache in my chest as a high-caliber round impacted against my energy shields, throwing me back several meters with incredible force. I managed to land on my hooves, skidding along the floor for several meters before coming to a stop. Somehow, my energy shielding still held, but only barely.

“Miss Freya, on me!” shouted Dovetail to my left, and I turned to witness the gryphon peppering the Forlorn captain with a non-stop onslaught of electrified lead as Dovetail barreled towards him at a dead sprint. He tried to turn his weapons back upon her, but he was too slow—the filly lunged forth with blinding speed, bashing him hard with her shield and causing him to stumble backwards.

She charged him again, but this time he was ready. With lightning speed he smacked the shield out of his way, grabbed her by the neck, and kneed her painfully in the underbelly—“AGGHH!”—before tossing her with all his might towards Freya, whose machine gun couldn't spin down fast enough to avoid landing several shots on the poor filly’s flailing body as it smashed into her, leaving the two in a disoriented heap.

…Oh dear.

I spun back towards Drakkaris, who had once again turned to me, his sights already lined up. I knew I would not survive another shot from that rifle. Unless…

In the span of less than a second, I threw my forearm in front of my face and channeled the remaining energy from my overshields into a concentrated spot in front of my hoof. The instant I heard the deafening shot and felt its impact reverberate against my hoof, I forced all of its collected energy outward, and immediately heard an agonized scream. Lowering my hoof, I grinned as I saw that my last-minute defensive measure had done its job in reflecting the round back at its attacker—his helmet and faceplate had cracked clean in half, its pieces clattering to the floor and leaving his head exposed.

I charged him with all of the might I could muster, drawing my sniper rifle, and jumping up to the center platform. Before he could recover, I bashed him in the face with the butt of my rifle, then slammed into him with all four hooves, forcing him to the ground. With a single hoof on his neck, I forced the barrel of the rifle into his face.

One eye opened to gaze upon his fate, and he let out a guttural, monstrous roar.

BOOM.

As the final gunshot rang throughout the room, the interior of the bridge fell silent. Nothing but the gentle hum of the airship’s engines filled the empty space between us and our victory.

“Is… is Drakkaris dead?” asked Dovetail, approaching slowly with a hint of hesitation in her voice.

I looked back at him. “Hm.”

POP.

“He is now,” I said, holstering my smoking sidearm and finally taking my hoof off the dead Kell’s neck.

“Finally,” said Dovetail with a relieved sigh, falling to the floor in an exhausted heap.

“It’s about time,” grunted Freya as she leaned on her light machine gun for support. “Been spending way too long trying to hunt down this asshole.”

“I’m glad it’s over,” agreed Dovetail, trotting over to Freya. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Freya replied, waving a talon, though she never stopped favoring her wing. “I should head over to King’s Watch and report to the High Talon. No doubt they’re gonna wanna know that Drakkaris is dead.”

“Sounds like a good idea. I think the Vanguard back at the Tower will want to know the same. Shadow, when do you wanna head… Shadow?”

I was barely paying attention to their exchange—my awareness was entirely fixed on the rifle that I now held in my grasp. It was warm to the touch, flowing with energy and power, humming with the life and legacy of a thousand tales. It spoke to me. Sung to me.

…Such a strange weapon.

“Shadow?”

I looked up. Dovetail was standing before me, head tilted to the side in curiosity. “Is that Drakkaris’ rifle?”

I stared back at the weapon, and wondered how many talons had grasped it over the eons.

“No,” I said simply. “And I don’t think it’s mine, either.”

There was a quote in a flowing script inscribed into the side of its wooden frame, but so much of it had been scratched away over the years that most of it was unintelligible… save for three words.

“…no land beyond…?”

“‘For us, there is no land beyond the Divide’,” said Freya suddenly. She stood at a distance, her head lowered and her tone cold. “It’s a famous Gryphosi saying.”

“From the game?” asked Dovetail.

“No, for real,” she said, walking slowly towards us. “You know what the Divide is, right?”

I mentally brought up a map of Equestria. “The mountains and canyons to the northwest of Equestria, yes?”

“Yeah. And it separates Gryphos from both you and the zebras.” She stopped just a few feet from us. “You remember the Zebrican War?”

“Umm… how long ago was that?” asked Dovetail.

Honestly, Sweetie Belle. The Zebrican War was discussed in class not two months ago.

“It was about fifty or sixty years ago,” I told her, “so you wouldn’t have been born yet.”

“Were you?”

I stayed silent.

“I wasn’t either,” said Freya. “But every Gryphosi kid since then gets that saying hammered into their heads from the moment they first step into school.”

She held out her talon towards me expectantly. What did she want with the rifle…?

I quickly glanced at Dovetail, who readied her hand cannon and quickly nodded her assent. Knowing I was covered, I slowly, reluctantly, handed the weapon to Freya.

“Astrid Hawkeye,” she continued as she took hold of it and turned it over in her talons, “the most celebrated sniper of the Zebrican Wars. The zebras managed to gain a lot of ground during their invasion, fighting us all the way up to the Divide. But that was where Hawkeye and her platoon dug their talons into the soil, held their ground, and didn’t let a single zebra or pony through.”

Dovetail quirked an eyebrow. “Pony?”

“We were allies with the zebras at that time, and our numbers bolstered their armies,” I said gruffly.

She blinked. “Oh.”

“And we lost a lot of land to the zebras because of your alliance,” continued Freya. “But we refused to let you or anyone else past the canyons and through to the mainland. We would either stop the invasion at the Divide, or we would die trying. Because for us, there could be no further retreat. ‘For us, there was no land beyond the Divide’.”

She looked up at me and narrowed her eyes.

“This is a Gryphosi rifle. It was made by gryphons, and wielded by gryphons. A legendary gryphon hero used this weapon to defend her country to the last. To hold the line against equid aggression. To rack up a headcount in the hundreds, counting many of your kind among them.”

I stood silent, unsure of how to respond. Was she laying claim to the rifle because of its legacy among her species? Would she take No Land Beyond from my hooves? The only reason why I had joined Dovetail on this expedition, why I had helped her take down the House of Autumn, was because of her assurances that this rifle would be my prize at the end. If I were to relinquish it to Freya, then all my efforts would be for naught—

“Take care of it,” Freya said finally, and she held the weapon out to me.

I blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“It’s yours. Take it.”

“But… if you didn’t want it, what was the purpose behind all of that posturing?”

“I just thought it was a cool story about gryphon history that you probably didn’t know,” she said with a good-natured grin. “And I wanted you to realize how important that rifle is to us, and what it stands for when you wield it in battle—steadfast loyalty in the name of one’s homeland.”

Gingerly, I took the rifle from her. “Are you certain I can take this?”

“I am,” she assured me. “By defeating the Kell of House Autumn, the House of Kings can maintain its place in Highcrowne. You were the one who dealt the final blow to Drakkaris. You fought to protect the homeland of a species that isn’t even yours. So even if your people were once our enemy… by all means, you’ve proven yourself worthy of wielding it.”

I stared down at the ancient weapon. It felt heavier in my hooves than before, as if it were burdened with a weight that went beyond mere wood and steel: the weight of its perennial legacy.

…And then I reminded myself that this was a Sun-forsaken video game. None of this was real, and this gryphon was taking it far too seriously for it to be healthy.

But, well, I really wanted this rifle. And I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, lest I risk her changing her mind.

“…Thank you, Freya,” I finally said, looking up at the gryphon. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she said, waving a talon. “Besides, I totally cannot stand sniper rifles.”

“Yeah, and No Land Beyond is a Mythical weapon, which means it’s soulbound,” quipped Dovetail with a grin.

I turned to her, quirking an eyebrow. “Soulbound?”

“‘The magical essence of the weapon has inextricably tied itself to your spirit,’” recited Dovetail in a mystical tone. “‘It speaks only to you and is bound to your soul until death claims it for eternity.’”

“That’s a dramatic, lore-friendly way of saying that Mythical weapons are pretty much locked to your character as soon as they drop,” added Freya. “You can’t trade it away to me or anyone else, even if you wanted to.”

…

“So these were all theatrics, I was never at risk of losing this weapon to you, and you two nerds were being needlessly dramatic,” I concluded.

“Pretty much!” said Freya with a huge grin.

I facehoofed. “I am surrounded by idiots.”

“Idiots who totally just whooped Drakkaris’ flank all the way back to the Age of Discord!” whooped Freya, striking a victorious pose.

“And hey, that’s not the only thing we got!” exclaimed Dovetail, running up to the bridge controls. “I think this airship is ours for the taking too!”

“You’re joking,” said Freya in disbelief. “Is it really?”

“One moment…” She began rapidly tapping away at the onboard computer. “…Yep! It’s available for us to claim. Once I take it back to a capital city and get it registered with the Dockmaster, it’ll officially be licensed under my name.”

“Dude, this thing is huge, though,” remarked Freya, glancing around the roomy interior. “I could see a dozen people living on this thing.”

“Yeah, it’s a Frigate-class,” explained Dovetail, “so apparently it can fit dozens, maybe hundreds of players.”

“Pah, who needs hundreds of players,” said Freya with a scoff, flopping onto one of the chairs on the bridge and spinning around in it. “Why not just keep it to us three? We’d have the run of the place!”

"Why just us three?" asked Dovetail. "Maybe we could invite our friends to hang out on the ship with us! Do you have anyone else you play with?”

Freya stopped spinning and looked up meaningfully.

“Well, I’ve got a couple friends from my platoon that I play this game with on the reg, but that’s about it.” She glanced at us. “How about you two? Do you like to play together often?”

“No,” I said definitively.

Dovetail visibly winced at that, her ears folding backward. Both of us noticed.

“Ouch,” said Freya with a smirk. “Talk about rejected.”

I felt an eyelid twitch. This pony was just too damn sensitive.

“We only met a few weeks ago,” I clarified. “So we haven’t really had a chance to ‘play often’ yet.”

“You don’t make it sound like it’s something you’re interested in doing though,” said Freya.

Stop putting words in my mouth. “I never said that.”

“Then…” said Dovetail, quietly.

We turned back to her. She seemed hesitant, but eventually she locked eyes with me and approached.

“Shadow,” she said, approaching me kindly. “I know we have our differences, but… I’d really love to keep playing with you.”

…Really.

For this girl to have categorized me as someone she wanted to actually spend more time with, was… admittedly, unexpected. I couldn’t help but be a little shocked at that notion. Had I already won into her good graces that quickly?

“I mean, for starters, you’re a great player, better than you think,” she continued. “Look what we accomplished together.”

I… suppose that was true. The rifle now slung over my chest wouldn’t be mine had I not worked with Dovetail to topple the House of Autumn.

“Plus,” she continued, “you’re one of the few ponies I’ve met in this game that isn’t afraid to… well, talk to me like a normal pony.”

“Talk to you?” asked Freya. “That seems like a low bar.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Dovetail. “I don’t know if you have to deal with this often, Miss Freya, but… a lot of other players get really mean to me when they first hear my voice.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” said Freya, her eyes lighting up with understanding. “Yeah, okay, I definitely know what you’re talking about.”

There was clearly something being communicated between the two that I was completely in the dark about. “Anyone mind explaining?”

“It’s… a girl thing,” said Dovetail, hesitantly. “There’s not a lot of other girls who play this game. So when other players find out I’m a filly, it almost always completely changes how they treat me. They get really mean and aggressive. Telling me I don’t belong, or that our team is guaranteed to lose just because I’m there. Because fillies are bad at games, or whatever.”

What? You couldn’t be serious. From men? That was completely backward.

“Sometimes, they’ll even deliberately gang up on me and teamkill me over and over again, just to make me miserable. Saying ‘we’ll be better off without you holding us back’, and stuff. And if I try to defend myself, they’ll just talk over me, saying I shouldn’t be so sensitive, that I’m just being a whiny little girl.”

She turned to me, a little nervously. “I’m gonna be honest, Shadow. When you started gunning for me as hard as you did the first few times in the Crucible, I thought you were like them.”

“Really,” I said, in genuine befuddlement. “You do know that’s not the real reason why, right? I might have despised you at the time, but I never once questioned your skill.”

“I know,” said Dovetail, with a small smile. “I think that’s what made me realize that you weren’t like them. I mean, sure, you weren't exactly nice to me, but… you also never coddled me, or talked down to me, or questioned my skill. You treat me like an equal. There aren’t a lot of boys out there like that.”

That… certainly answered a lot of questions.

“Yikes,” said Freya. “Okay, that I didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t happen to you?” asked Dovetail.

“Not really,” Freya replied with a wave of her claw. “It might be something to do with gryphon culture, but I never have my skill questioned by other gryphons. I sure as Hel get a lot of creepers, though."

"Creepers?" asked Dovetail.

"Yeah, like, guys who get a little too friendly," she explained. "I get a lot of boys like that. Asking for friend requests and photos of my talons and other weird shit.”

“Oh gosh, I get that too!” said Dovetail, apparently excited to have another person to commiserate. “Even when they’re being nice to me, boys will say all sorts of really creepy stuff all the time, and I don’t get it! Like, I’m just here to play a game, not look for a date—”

“Waiwaiwait, hit the brakes,” Freya interrupted out of nowhere. “Ponies creep on you? Even though you’re, like, twelve or something?”

“Er, sometimes, yeah,” she said in embarrassment. “Or they say really… um…” Her ears folded downwards as a red blush quickly swept over her face. “Some of them can be really… crude.”

Freya’s jaw gaped. “I… can’t decide whether I want to laugh hysterically or cry out in terror.”

“I’d say a little from column A, a little from column B,” I offered. "Besides, you're not exactly free from guilt either, what with that sailor mouth of yours."

"Oh, like anyone gives a flying f—”

“Anyways!” Dovetail interrupted in a clear attempt to move on from that subject. “My point is, because of that, I don't really have a lot of ponies I play this game with. Right now the only people are one of my classmates from school, and a stallion from Saddle Arabia. So… I’d really like to see you more often, Shadow Song.” She turned to the gryphon. “And you too, Miss Freya.”

“Me?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m… you know…”

“What, a gryphon? It doesn't matter to me,” she said. “Or us. Right, Shadow?”

Wrong.

“Right.”

"And with you two, that would make five!" Dovetail said excitedly. “Throw in one more, and that’ll be a big enough fireteam to start doing the really big raids and stuff!”

“Raids? Like the Infinite Citadel? That… does sound enticing,” Freya said with a hint of hesitation in her voice. “…I mean, you seem pretty chill, so… I guess I might as well?”

“Shadow Song?” asked Dovetail, her eyes glimmering with undisguised want.

I was… honestly, I was completely taken aback by this girl’s offer. Within a short span of time, I had gone from loathsome bully to trusted friend and confidante. She had trained me in Crucible combat, helped me acquire one of the most legendary weapons in the game, and even aired her insecurities to me without a second thought.

Was that a testament to my charisma, or merely Sweetie Belle’s naïve faith in anypony who so much as spared her a second glance?

…In any case, it would be foolish of me to turn down the offer.

"I... suppose there wouldn't be any harm to it either."

“Yay!” With a bright smile, she waved a hoof to pull up her HUD and proceeded to tap in a few commands. “Friend request sent!”

“Woo,” droned Freya. “Shadow gets a mythical rifle, you get a Sun-damned Frigate-class airship, and I get friend requests from a bunch of dorkhorses—”

“Why not take Drakkaris’ cloak?” Dovetail ventured. “Yours looks a bit tattered, if I’m being honest.”

“Gee, thanks,” she snarked, walking over to the dead Kell, unclasping the cloak's choker and bringing it up to her neck. “Hooray, I get a fucking cape— oh hey, this actually has some pretty sick stats on it.”

“And it looks really pretty too!” said Dovetail.

“Oooh, yes, I love pretty frou-frou things!” said Freya in a mock-squeaky voice.

“Hey, I don’t sound like that!” grumped Dovetail. “And fine, rephrase: it looks epic on you. Super-duper regal and heroic and stuff. The sigil of Autumn stitched into the back makes it look like a trophy you earned for defeating Drakkaris, which is way cool. Like, superhero cool.”

“Now that I can dig.” The gryphon did an about-face, causing her billowing cloak to flutter majestically in the air. “Maybe I can stand in for the Kell of Autumn? Make them all follow my command instead? That’d be pretty wicked.” She glanced at me. “What do you think, Shadow?”

“Meh,” I meh’d.

“Wow. Somepony obviously doesn’t give a shit.”

“I’m now the proud owner of a fabled, centuries-old, Gryphosi-engineered anti-materiel rifle, so no, I couldn’t care less about your over-designed cape if I tried.”

“Bet you couldn’t use more two-word adjectives if you tried, either,” retorted Freya with a roll of her eyes.

“Try me.”

“Freya, just tell Shadow your cloak is ‘frabjous’,” offered Dovetail. “He respects adjectives he doesn’t understand.”

…What in Sun’s name had I gotten myself into.

Author's Note

Take heart. The Confluence draws near.

Credits:
Special thanks to Hap for helping me figure out fancy gun things.

Fun facts:

The closest real-world analogue to the No Land Beyond is the PTRD-41 Degtyaryov Anti-Tank Rifle. The rifle's name is in reference to a famous quote attributed to Vasily Zaytsev, a Red Army sniper during WWII and a Russian hero.

June 2020 update
I've changed the name of the guild to Sanctuary, and modified this chapter so that by this point in time, Sweetie Belle has yet to found the guild.

13. Reflection Sum – Part 1

“What is more frightening:
to know that the path is infinite,
or to walk that path alone?”
—Eternity to Eternity

S I L V E R S P O O N

I blearily opened a single eye and was promptly assailed by an onslaught of infernal daylight.

Why? Why was there light?!

…Drat. I had completely forgotten to shut the curtains.

Silently, I urged the sun to cast itself away beneath the horizon from whence it came, hoping to once again submerge my mind within the blissful emptiness of sleep.

…But to no avail. The inexorable march of time seemed insistent on wrenching me from the safety of my dreams, no matter my reluctance.

I shoved the bed covers off myself, probably with a tinge more force than was necessary. But I didn’t care. I had every right to be angry. My impromptu excursion to Manehattan had thus far been a resounding disaster. As if it weren’t bad enough that I had to suffer Diamond’s jealous little spat prior to boarding the train, I had to deal with that entirely unnecessary confrontation by Sweetie Belle on the way here.

…Sweetie Belle. That infernal filly.

For Sun’s sake, I had known. I had prepared! Avoiding her and Button was the entire reason why I had chosen an earlier train, one that would depart just before school had gotten out! Had I known that they had planned to do the same, I’d have taken a different train!

And yet—and yet—she had the gall to accuse me of following her. How dare she. That foolish girl. Who did she think she was? Who did she think I was?!

…But it mattered not. Today was the first day of my weekend, and I was determined to make this trip worth my while.

All the pieces were in place to make this outing a success. My family’s deep-seeded connections with the elite in Manehattan meant that, with only a few suggestions to a dear friend of my mother’s—who just so happened to be the owner of one of the most prestigious hotels in the city—I was able to acquire an incredibly expensive suite with a gorgeous view overlooking Central Park for a paltry sum.

I stretched my legs and gazed out the window. My eyes were met with a glittering metropolis filled with life and possibility.

It was just me, myself, and Manehattan. And today, I would make this city mine.

Within moments of stepping beyond the threshold of my hotel, I was quickly swept up by the chaos beyond. Everywhere I looked, there were ponies trotting every which way, a constantly churning sea of life for as far as the eye could see.

Damn it all. I had taken this vacation specifically so that I could get away from ponies, not utterly submerge myself in— ouch!

“Sorry, little miss,” apologized a stallion as he swiftly strode past me.

“It’s quite alright,” I replied, “just please do watch where— agh!”

“Ey, watch it, kid!” grunted a mare that had bumped into me from behind.

“Kid?!” I whirled around to face her. “I’ll have you know, miss, I—!”

But she was already far ahead.

Grrr… this Sun-forsaken crowd—!

Quickly, I extricated myself from the crowd, retreating towards the door of the hotel from whence I had come, just to give myself a moment to breathe.

“I would advise against standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, Madame Silver,” said the hotel’s doorman.

“I gathered,” I snapped at him.

“Apologies, Madame.”

Damn it all. It had been far too long since my last excursion into Manehattan, and never had I done it alone. Loathe as I was to admit it, I was not used to dealing with such large crowds.

At least in a more intimate setting, I’d be able to just give these ponies a piece of my mind for their transgressions against my person. But with a crowd like this, I couldn’t even manage a word in edgewise before they just up and disappeared, never to be seen from again!

…And yes, I knew it was irrational and foolish of me to expect for anypony in this swarm to stop what they were doing just so I could give them what for, but still! At least the unwashed masses of Ponyville were much better behaved. If I had something to say, they’d likely stop to listen. After all, a fair majority of them recognized me. Here, nopony knew me at all.

…Hm.

Surely that was for the better?

They would never know my name, and I would scarcely know of theirs. These ponies could do nothing to enrich my life, nothing to advance my goals. And, in return, they knew nothing of me, sought nothing of me, expected nothing of me.

No pressure. No image to maintain. No legacy to uphold.

Staring towards the skyscrapers that loomed above, I could almost feel the city opening up, its embrace warm and inviting, its treasures glistening with opportunity and adventure. I could gallop in any direction and a cornucopia of concerts, restaurants, cinemas and shopping districts would be there to greet me at every destination.

And, best of all? Not a soul could hold me back. No scrutinizing sisters. No overbearing best friends. No unstable rivals. I could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone, and there were over a hundred miles of empty countryside separating me from anything that could stop me.

I was alone.

And I was free.

S W E E T I E B E L L E

Staring groggily into the bathroom mirror, I could already see red lines spider-webbing their way across the whites of my eyes.

It was too damn early in the morning for this.

“C’mon Rarity,” I groaned. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Hold still, young lady, it’ll be a few moments more,” my sister ordered as she continued to curl my mane. “And it’s well past sunrise. Considering that we all have a very big day ahead of us, I would have expected you to be more responsible in anticipating this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I would have gotten more sleep if somepony hadn’t woken us up in the middle of the night,” I grunted.

Rarity coughed, a blush adorning her cheeks. “Ahem. Yes, well… considering the state in which I found you two, I assumed that maybe you had been up to something, er, indecent—”

“I already told you, nothing happened between us!” I groaned, feeling my own cheeks warm up in humiliation as I remembered how Rarity had frantically checked the sheets for ‘evidence’ of our supposed shenanigans. “We were just cuddling, and nothing more than that!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, listen to yourself! ‘Cuddling’? Forgive me if I find fault with the idea that such an act could be somehow devoid of intimacy—”

“Platonic cuddling is a thing, you know!” I snapped. “Seriously Rarity, you already know that Button and I don’t see each other that way.”

“Then all the more reason!” she asserted. “Sharing such close contact with a colt you don’t even have feelings for? You cannot afford to be careless with yourself, being so… so intimate with any boy that just so happens to canter—”

“He’s my best friend!” I said, heat from the anger mixing in with my embarrassment. “Just because I’m close to him doesn’t mean I’m being ‘intimate’ with—!”

“You are not a child anymore, Sweetie Belle!” Rarity suddenly snapped. “You are a young lady on the cusp of adulthood! Perhaps, three years ago, your objections would have been valid, but realize that the situation has changed! It matters not that you two are merely ‘friends’, you stand to ignite feelings in him that you cannot control, to say nothing of him!”

“Feelings?! Button doesn’t even—”

“This is not up for discussion, young lady!” she declared, her tone firm. “You are allowing the foolishness of your youth to cloud your judgment, and I will not stand for it, especially not with our schedule as packed as it is! Now kindly hold your tongue while I finish up with your mane, so we can just go.”

I gritted my teeth, but said nothing more. She was right—there was too much to worry about today, and it would do us no good to continue this argument now.

But… damn it, Rarity! I’m your little sister! Couldn’t you have even a little more faith in me to be responsible and take care of myself?!

…Well, as long as it had nothing to do with flammable objects, at least.

A few more moments passed in awkward silence before she finally put down the curling iron.

“Thanks,” I muttered half-heartedly, hopping off the stool and refusing to look at her as I made my way towards the bathroom door.

“…Sweetie Belle, please,” she said wearily.

I stopped, but didn’t turn around. “What, Rarity?”

I heard her hooves striking the tile as she slowly trotted towards me. “I want you to understand… It’s not like I’m in the business of silencing you. I’m just—”

“I know,” I muttered, finally turning around to face her. “You’re worried about me. It’s fine. I get it.”

“…Yes,” she said with a hesitant nod.

“And you just want me to be safe,” I continued, trotting towards her somewhat.

“Exactly.” A small smile began to grace her features.

“But you also said, and I quote, ‘you are not a child anymore’.”

Her eyes crossed at that. “Yes, well—”

“And, if I’m not a child anymore, that means I’m old enough to make my own decisions, right?”

“I suppose that’s true, but—”

“Which means that I’m responsible enough,” I said with finality, “to decide for myself who I will and won’t be close to.”

She stared at me for a moment, then heaved a great sigh, draping a hoof over her face. “Sweetie Belle, please—”

A sudden knock came from the door. “Um, Sweetie? Miss Rarity?”

Both of us whirled towards the door.

“Um, I don’t mean to interrupt the, uh, super-totally-not-awkward conversation you’re having about me that I definitely couldn’t hear through the bathroom door or anything… but, um, could you girls hurry it up a little? ‘Cause I’ve been out here for about twenty minutes now, and I… kinda sorta really need to pee.”

A moment passed as we stared at the door.

“…please?”

I turned to Rarity and flung a hoof out towards the door. “Seriously, him of all ponies? Why do you even worry? He’s probably, like, the least threatening thing in all of existence!”

Rarity snorted, her pained scowl finally broken by a crooked smile.

“…H-hey, I heard that!”

“Ahem, well!” Rarity stepped towards the door. “We’d best clear out so that Button can take care of his business, and then we can get going.”

“Yeah.” I made to open the door, but she put her hoof on mine, turning me to face her.

“This conversation is not over, Sweetie Belle,” she said, her face grave. “I’m willing to put a rain check on it so we can get moving, but… we have a lot to talk about when we get home.”

I sighed, then nodded my head. “Okay.”

S I L V E R S P O O N

As I wandered the pristine halls of the Manehattan Gallery of Equestrian History, weaving between meters-long murals of great battles and pedestals adorned with priceless artifacts, I breathed easy knowing that there was no Diamond Tiara to gaze holes into the back of my neck.

No doubt, had I brought her with me, she would be plodding along with half a heart, sparing not even a moment’s consideration for any of the timeless works on display and attempting to chase away her boredom by polluting the reverent atmosphere with her incessant prattle.

Approaching a stone tablet, I could already hear the ghostly visages of her voice permeating my mind.

“Who cares about this crap?” she would have said, throwing her hooves up in frustrated tedium. “It’s just a dumb rock covered in cavemare scrawlings!”

Cavemare scrawlings! Of the only surviving account of earth pony society prior to the Discordian era! Our Sun-forsaken ancestors resorted to imparting their legacy upon stone during a time when books could be set aflame and mana-archives rent asunder through chaotic magics, yet she would relegate their efforts to mere cavemare scrawlings.

Pah. For a girl of wealth, she was remarkably crude. But that was to be expected. After all, ponies of new money lacked a certain… refinement. The venerable Silver dynasty had built its reputation over centuries of industry, whereas Diamond’s lucrative little family business had but a single generation to its legacy. Their wealth was too young for them to fully appreciate, leaving them bereft of the years of experience necessary to understand the social mores of high society.

Not for lack of trying to acclimate on her mother’s part, of course. The ambitious Madame Proper had clearly been a quick study, if her mastery over her contemporaries and cohorts was any indication.

But it was clear that, had Madame Proper ever presented her daughter with that same opportunity to learn from her, Diamond had refused it outright. The girl was a barren wasteland, devoid of culture and refinement, a child pawing at the coattails of high society without ever once daring to grasp it.

Diamond forewent the stage, the symphony, even the study of her own family business, to instead fill her time with vapid Bridleway gossip in between bouts of socially terrorizing her lessers… hobbies that were, perhaps, valuable for competitive networking, but of little utility in a vacuum.

Considering how greatly our personal interests diverged, it was a miracle that we got along to begin with. There was precious little that I actually shared in common with her.

Thus, it was such that, when Diamond had confronted me, demanding to know where I was going, I simply told her the truth: in order to distance myself from the drama surrounding recent events in Ponyville, I was leaving to Manehattan on a short sabbatical. And she was not invited.

Had I been worried that I was alienating Diamond Tiara? Perhaps. After all, she was my greatest and closest friend.

But those fears had been quickly snuffed within moments of my entering the museum. For a whole two hours, I had been free to seek out my own pleasures within these storied halls of classical antiquity. There was no fear that Diamond Tiara might disapprove, no concern that I would be driving my friend to boredom… no pressure weighing me down, at all.

I had enough of Diamond to last the week.

But these last few days?

They were for me.

S W E E T I E B E L L E

“…and after I drop you kids off, I have to head straight to the luncheon, followed by the interview, and a dress rehearsal immediately afterwards,” explained Rarity as we made our way along the busy sidewalks of Manehattan. “Assuming I can even make it to the luncheon by noon, what with all this hoof-traffic!”

“Seriously, Rarity, we have time,” I said, patting her shoulder with a free hoof—though it was a little tricky at our pace. “Don’t worry so much. If all else fails, I can head to the event myself just fine.”

“Not in this crowd!” she protested. “You’d get lost in moments!”

“Umm, help!” squeaked a voice to my right.

For what felt like the twentieth time, I stuck an arm out to my right, snatched Button’s hoof, and dragged him forwards so that he was marching nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with me.

“T-thanks,” he muttered.

“Just hang tight and quit letting your eyes wander,” I said.

“Sorry.”

“Case in point, Sweetie,” Rarity affirmed. “You two would get swallowed up in ten seconds were you—”

“It’s just a crowd, mom,” I groaned sarcastically. “Not like it’s gonna gobble me up for dinner or something.”

“As far as you know! Just hurry along and keep Button close.”

Pfft! Well okay then, Miss No-Close-Contact. No doubt Rarity would have vehemently opposed to this in a hundred different ways under better circumstances.

Heh. I wondered how she’d react if she ever saw us at his house. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I had ended up leaning on his shoulder during late night gaming sessions. She’d probably throw a fit.

Oh well. What sis didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her!

“I coulda sworn this place was a lot closer last night,” Button grumbled.

“We’re actually here,” I pointed out, indicating the looming Surely Suede sign.

“Finally!” breathed Button in relief.

Disentangling ourselves from the swarming crowd, we finally stepped through the entrance of the shop. A telltale chime revealed our presence, but a cursory inspection of the store revealed that nopony was around to notice our entry.

“Miss Suri?” Rarity called out. “It’s Rarity, from yesterday evening! Are you in?”

No answer.

Maybe she was hidden behind a display or something? I trotted towards the center of the store, but found no sign of her. “Weird.”

“Do you think maybe she’s in back?” asked Button.

“Let’s go check.”

As we approached the backroom, we could hear a strange mechanical whirring emanating from the doorway.

“A sewing machine,” muttered Rarity. “Don’t tell me…”

Without further prompting, Button darted through the doorway.

“Button, wait a sec!”

I quickly followed him into the shop’s workroom and, upon rounding the corner, we found the place in a state of total disaster. The floor was littered with stray design sheets and scattered threads, and almost every visible surface was draped in stray pieces of cloth.

And, towards the side, seated at a buzzing sewing machine with a tattered mane and a drooping posture, was…

“Miss Coco?” I asked.

“Huh wha—?!” The mare’s head shot up and spun around. “I’m sorry, Miss Suri, I— whoaah!” Within seconds, Miss Coco had slipped out of her stool and toppled to the ground, flinging a jumble of papers and errant scraps of fabric into the air.

“Goodness gracious!” Rarity exclaimed, striding through the storm of detritus to help Miss Coco to her hooves. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Hunnghhhhh...” groaned the flustered mare, wiping her face and looking up. “Yeah, I think I’ll— Lady Rarity?!” She shrieked and leapt to her hooves. “Oh my goodness, it’s you, I mean— I’m so sorry, the dress is— I had no idea you’d be here so early—”

“Relax, dear,” hushed Rarity, righting the stool with her magic and guiding Miss Coco back onto it. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just—” As she sat down, her shoulders immediately slumped and she yawned. Widely. “…Oh gosh. My apologies, Lady Rarity. Even though I stayed up all last night to finish the dress, I’m still not quite there… but don’t worry, all I have left to do is—”

“You stayed up all night?” Rarity stepped back a bit. “I can’t imagine it would have taken that long.”

“Mhm,” nodded Miss Coco, suppressing another yawn. “We never planned to produce any variants of that piece in a filly’s size, so I had to sketch out new designs and cut the fabric myself, along with—”

“No, I understand that refitting a mare’s dress for a child isn’t exactly a drive-through order, but I’m still shocked that it took two seamstresses all night to—”

“Er, it’s only me,” said Miss Coco, glancing back at the table with a tired sigh. “Suri hasn’t come in yet.”

I glanced at Button, who gave me the same look in return. “…Has she come in at all since we left last night?”

“…No,” declared Miss Coco with a darkening expression. “No, she has not.”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised.

“I’m sorry, Lady Rarity,” said Miss Coco with a defeated look in her eyes. “I know you wanted this dress by morning, but I’ll still need a bit more time…”

“No apologies necessary, dear,” said Rarity, turning to the machine with a small frown. “We were planning to have Sweetie Belle wear it for an event, but she can certainly do without it for at least a few hours. Fret not, you still have plenty of time.”

“Oh… okay.” Somehow this made Miss Coco look… even more resigned? Memories of hushed voices flashed through my mind, and I quickly connected the dots.

“Miss Coco,” I said, approaching her. “Didn’t you say you had plans with your sister?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow.

“I… you heard that?” Miss Coco blinked. “Yes, she’s coming from out of town, and I was supposed to pick her up from the train station in a couple hours, but… you’re our client, and I can’t neglect my responsibility to you.” She sighed, but appeared to steel her resolve. “Besides, I’ve already spent all night working on this, and I’m so close to being finished with the dress. I can’t just give up now. Not when I know that such a sweet little mare like you will be the one to wear it.”

The mare turned her demure smile towards me, and while her sincerity warmed me to my very core… I could see it marred by weary cracks.

I glanced at Rarity, who was staring at Miss Coco with a look of intense consideration. It wasn’t long before she seemed to reach a conclusion. She squinted at a curtain next to the sewing desk, then began trotting towards it. “Coco, how much work remains until it’s ready?”

“Well, the measurements have already been implemented into the designs. I’ve sketched them out onto the sheets, and I have all of the swatches prepared. All that’s left is to cut the patterns and place them, which shouldn’t take more than a couple of— er, Lady Rarity, what are you—? No, wait, please! It’s not—”

Too late. Rarity had pulled back the curtain, revealing a small standing marrequin adorned with what appeared to be a near-finished version of the dress.

“Wow,” Button said in awe.

No kidding. Despite its incomplete state, it was already looking more gorgeous than I remembered. I mean, I guess I didn’t really have enough experience in dressmaking to say for sure, but beyond the size differences, I could have sworn the design was subtly different from the one on the display outside.

“Ooh, I don’t remember this little number being a part of the original,” said Rarity, examining a loose frill with her hoof and confirming my suspicions.

“Y-yes, I added that last night,” said Miss Coco, blushing furiously. “Since I was adapting the dress to a filly, I wanted to make a few changes that would better express her youth, which meant—”

“—wider arcing forms along the hem, a layered chiffon petticoat in complementary shades, and a cut-out on the right haunch that reveals her cutie mark,” Rarity observed, as she stepped back from the piece.

“…Plus a single ribbon-and-lace garter on the left rear leg to balance the arrangement, yes,” added Miss Coco. “Though, I realize too late now that these changes are no doubt to blame for my delays in—”

“Spectacular,” Rarity declared, causing Miss Coco to wince in surprise. “So subtle are the modifications that they preserve the allure of the piece’s simplicity, yet so potent is their impact that it resonates across every weave to revitalize the dress for a wholly distinctive individual.”

She turned to the petite mare, beaming. “Très magnifique, Miss Coco. Already it was an impressive design, but this is the work of an artisan. You are a brilliant gem in a sea of mediocrity. How long has Miss Suri kept you buried here?”

Miss Coco blinked, apparently lost for words. But a small smile emerged as she processed the compliment.

“…Thank you, Lady Rarity. You’re too kind.”

“I can see what’s left to be done,” said Rarity, turning back to the marrequin. “The lapel shawl, the blouse’s puff sleeves, the… oh dear, that’s certainly a lot of things. Definitely more than an hour’s work for a lone seamstress. Hmm… and this little bit is quite tricky indeed, but one need only respond to tricky problems with tricky solutions— oh, pardon me, Button.”

“Huh? Wha— yipe!” Button dodged to the side as a bolt of fabric whizzed past his head and straight towards a second sewing machine, which reactivated with a loud whirr.

“L-Lady Rarity?” stammered Miss Coco, approaching Rarity with caution as the mare suddenly lifted dozens of design templates off the desk and began reorganizing them in mid-air. “What are you—”

“If I sequester the grueling task of machining the remaining filler patterns—” Rarity whisked more than half of the papers towards the second table “—and leave you with just these—” she collated the remaining sheets into a much less intimidating stack “—it should lower your workload by a considerable margin.”

Miss Coco’s eyes widened, and when she responded, hers was a tone of disbelief mixed with dawning comprehension. “…Lady Rarity, you couldn’t possibly be proposing to—”

“Granted, you’ll still be left to contend with the more intricate cuts and accessories,” continued Rarity as she tilted her head to glance at the leftover stack. “But to deprive such a fine artist like yourself the opportunity to preside over the most cherished facets of your design? Why, I could scarcely imagine a greater insult.”

As Rarity’s magic transformed the room into a sea of activity, Miss Coco could only watch in stunned awe. I couldn’t blame her. Countless times I had borne witness to this display, and yet it never failed to steal my breath.

“No, no, the generics will do,” she continued, her casual and relaxed tone in stark contrast to the storm of commotion she was creating. “After all, they are naught but mind-numbing busywork, mere speed bumps along the road to the realization of your creative vision. And I’d wager that relieving you of said obstacles will easily cut down on your remaining time estimate by… oh, say, half? Perhaps even two-thirds?”

She turned back to Miss Coco with a beaming smile and a friendly wink. “So? What say you?”

Miss Coco flopped to her hindquarters, jaw agape. Honestly, I shared her surprise. What in all the Stars could Rarity hope to gain from this that she would commit to it?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” began Miss Coco in a wavering tone. “To have you, the Lady Rarity, work with me on one of my designs? I couldn’t put into words how much of an honor that would be.”

“Oh, dearest Miss Coco Pommel, the honor is mine,” replied Rarity, her eyes glittering with barely-restrained wonder. “Before me is a chance to witness the handiwork of a prodigiously-talented artist such as yourself. I wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this for the world.”

“Uh, about that,” interrupted Button, who stepped forward, clearly unphased. “Don’t you have a luncheon to attend in, like, an hour?”

“I’m aware of that, my dear,” said Rarity, sweeping all of her materials over to the second machine. “But what else am I to do? I can’t sit by and watch as Miss Coco is forced to sacrifice family and sanity for the sake of her career.”

So… you’d sacrifice your career for hers?

“Besides, the luncheon is merely an opportunity to schmooze, and is thus entirely optional. As long as I show up for the actual interview, there shouldn’t be any concerns.”

Oh. Well then. I guess that worked out!

“So… I guess that means we can head to the event alone?” I asked her.

“Yes, go right ahead!” she confirmed with a rapid nod of her head. “I’ll stay here with Miss Coco to get your dress finished, and we should have it done in time for her to deliver it to the hotel before your event begins in earnest. Do you remember which hotel it is and how to get there?”

Hah. I barely remembered how to get around Ponyville. “It’s, like, Whinny Ar-something, right?”

“Waldam Astoria,” she corrected with a hapless sigh. “Down the street, right at Central Park, past the train station for a few blocks. You’ll recognize it as soon as you get there, it’s one of the most opulent hotels in the city.”

“Sure thing. You remember that for me, Button, I suck at directions.”

“As always.” He rolled his eyes and gave me a dorky smile.

“Well then, it’s settled!” she declared, waving a hoof. “Run along, you two! And do be careful!”

“’Kay, bye Rarity!” I said, trotting towards the door. “Good luck with your interview!”

With a parting smile and a wave, we waded back into the streets of Manehattan.

S I L V E R S P O O N

Diamond might have enjoyed this.

…No. I couldn’t think like that.

Diamond wasn’t here. I didn’t want her here. I had explicitly decided I wouldn’t have her here.

I mean, sure, I suppose we often found ourselves as I was now, relaxing on a grassy knoll in the park, enjoying a quaint brunch while exchanging mild pleasantries over the relaxing purr of the park’s denizens. And, all things considered, Manehattan Central Park wasn’t all that different from Ponyville Memorial Park.

Though the raised auditorium was certainly a nice touch. As of this moment, there was a string quartet amidst a soothing performance of the classics. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the moment, allowing the calming aural waves to wash over me like a warm spring breeze.

No doubt the tranquil beauty of this place would have been utterly lost on Diamond. Were the girl here, she would almost certainly be attempting to override the moment with relentless gossip, or demanding that we trot off to engage in something more exciting. She never was one to stop and enjoy the moment, as it were.

This was my chance to enjoy myself, and I was going to take advantage of it. Leaving Diamond behind had, absolutely, been the right decision, regardless of how she felt about it.

…Ironic.

Just a month ago, if anypony had suggested that I had somehow earned the ire of my best friend, I’d have laughed in their face. In all the years that we had known each other, Diamond and I had rarely ever butted heads… mainly because I had gotten so good at reading my friend that I could easily dance around any potential landmines.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad? She was insufferable on occasion, but…

No. What was I thinking? I made this choice on purpose, and I had my reasons. Despite how gratifying it was to make Diamond twirl to my tune… her force of personality was sometimes just too much to bear. And it had most certainly reached critical mass last week, to the point where it was exhausting just to imagine spending time with her.

Recent events had Diamond on a hair trigger. She was volatile and primed to explode without warning, and I refused to be within the blast radius when it inevitably happened. I needed to put as much space between myself and the events of Ponyville as possible, Diamond included.

If anything, that was truly the reason why I had rejected her, and her response had completely validated it. I wasn’t surprised when she had gotten angry, and bitter, and possessive, and entitled, and all the other things she was wont to do when she didn’t get her way. All of it fit her modus operandi to the letter. She wanted things her way, always, all the time, and this had merely been her attempt to guilt-trip me into bowing down.

Unfortunately for little Miss Diamond Tiara, she did not get to have what she wanted unless I said so.

She may have been my best friend, but she did not dictate the terms of our friendship.

I did.

…

Still. Perhaps I should have made more of an effort to assuage her concerns. We didn’t leave on the best of terms… but then again, it wasn’t like there was enough time for me to do so, especially not with her yelling at me.

I’d just have to figure out how to make it up to her when I got back, and do what I could to enjoy myself without her.

It wouldn’t be that hard.

Would it?

S W E E T I E B E L L E

As the day progressed and we made our way closer to Central Park, we found navigating the streets of Manehattan to be much less traumatic. Which was nice. I think my brain definitely needed some space to process everything that had happened so far. The conversation with Button last night, the argument with Rarity in the morning, the debacle with Miss Coco… so much had gone down, and we hadn’t even made it to the event yet.

Thankfully, Button had kept quiet throughout most of the journey. We held fast with interlocked hooves so as to not get separated, but words were rarely exchanged beyond the bare essentials for navigation.

If anything, it seemed like he was in the same position. No doubt the last few days had been weighing heavily on his mind as well. I stared at his face for a bit, and it seemed like his eyes were towards either the sky or the floor, his expression sedate in silent contemplation. Two words that rarely fit with Button.

What was going through the head of my best friend?

Suddenly, he looked up to meet my gaze. “Hey Sweetie Belle?”

Welp! I did a short double-take, hoping he didn’t notice that I had been staring. “W-what’s up, Button?”

I gave him my best smile, hoping to hide my inner turmoil. To be honest, my own mind was such a festering whirlwind of emotions and discoveries that even I wasn’t sure if I was ready to help him work through his thoughts.

Nevertheless, I braced myself for what would no doubt be a weighty conver—

“Do you think we could stop for food?”

…Oh.

Well, at least it wasn’t anything heavy. Plus, I was getting pretty hungry too.

“Sure,” I said with a silent relief. “Central Park is only another block away or so. There’s probably a café or something we can hit up once we’re there.”

“Phew,” he said in relief. “I could use a bite. And a place to sit and think for a bit.”

…Guess I wasn’t wrong after all.

“Same,” I muttered.

Eventually we reached Central Park, and I breathed easy. I had always been fond of the place myself. There was something romantic about an absolutely massive stretch of nature that went on for what seemed like miles, just sitting smack dab in the middle of the city.

Button seemed similarly-impressed. “Holy smokes. This place is huge.”

“What, never been here before?” I asked.

“This is my first time to Manehattan ever,” he said. “Nopony told me they built a national park in the middle of it.”

“Haha, it’s not a national park, silly.”

“Looks big enough to be. How big is this place?”

“A couple miles both ways? I dunno. It’s like three dozen city blocks thataway.”

“Wow.” He gazed around at the sprawl of greenery. “Seems like a nice place to lose yourself in.”

“Yeah…”

Looks like I really wasn’t alone on needing a break from everything.

As predicted, we found a small café bordering the south entrance. We grabbed a couple of alfalfa sandwiches and sodas and made our way to a grassy shade under a tree, where we finally had a chance to relax and enjoy the Manehattan afternoon.

For a while, we ate in silence, staring out at the rest of the park. Other families were out and about enjoying their Saturday, and there were kids much younger than us running around, having fun, without a care in their lives. I stared at them, envious, trying to remember what it was like to be as young as they were, not having to worry about anything.

I mean, it’s not like my life was hard. It was just…

Just…

“Complicated,” I muttered aloud.

“Huh?” Button looked up at me, confused.

“When did everything get so complicated?” I asked, staring at my sandwich.

Button gave me a thoughtful look. “Yeah. This has been a pretty kaizo week.”

“First this stupid cutie mark,” I continued. “Then my parents. Then Diamond. Then the Headmaster. Then Mister Rich. Then friggin’ Silver Spoon on the train. Now Miss Coco?”

“I’m still kinda blown away that your sister would do that,” he said.

“I honestly wish she didn’t commission that dress in the end,” I said with a sigh. “Miss Coco wouldn’t have stayed up all night to do it.”

“Yeah, but everything’s okay now, isn’t it?” He rested his head on his hooves. “She was super-stoked when Miss Rarity offered to work on the dress with her.”

“I guess. It still made things mega-complicated for everyone. I feel bad for her sister.”

“It’ll work out in the end. The train station’s on the way to the hotel, so she can pick her sister up before she drops off the dress.”

“Lucky her. Still doesn’t change how stupid it all was, and how easily we could have avoided it.”

“I… sure? I mean, yeah, but—“

“All of this is friggin’ stupid,” I ranted. “I don’t get how stupid everyone has to be, why everyone over the last week has had to be such raging douche-canoes—”

“Sweetie.” I looked up at him, bewildered by his stern tone. “You’re going tilt.”

The heat bristled at my cheeks. “Shut up, Button. This isn’t Eternity.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he asserted. “You’re getting worked up, and it’s messing with your head.”

I began to shoot back, but he cut me off.

“Seriously, filly. Cool it. Things are gonna work out. We can go to the event. Miss Coco will bring the finished dress. We can be total badasses at the tournament. Stop worrying so much about last week and all this crap. Just be happy.”

“Easy for you to say,” I snapped, glaring at him. “We can’t all be happy and goofy and hyper all the time like you are.”

He snorted. “Really, Sweetie Belle? You think I’m happy all the time just because I act like it?”

I opened my mouth to retort… but then I remembered last night. How vulnerable he seemed. How scared. It was a side of him I’d never seen before.

“I seem happy all the time because I want to be,” he continued. “It makes it easier to forget that sometimes, I’m not happy.”

Then what was it? Were you happy, or weren’t you? “How is that any different than just lying to yourself?”

“Because if you do it enough, it stops being a lie.”

…So that’s why you were so damn bubbly all the time? Just because you wanted to fool yourself into being happy? It didn’t make sense to me.

“I don’t get it,” I said finally.

“Ugh.” He furrowed his brow in frustration. I could tell that my inability to understand was kinda driving him up a wall, but he still seemed determined to convince me. “Okay, I dunno how exactly to explain it, but… it’s not really that you have to ‘lie to yourself’ about all the bad stuff in your life. It’s kinda like you just… focus less on it, you know? Think about the good stuff. And be happy about that good stuff.”

“Thinking about the good stuff doesn’t just magically make the bad stuff go away,” I pointed out.

“No, but it but it makes the bad stuff easier to deal with when you remember why you’re fighting through it.”

I… guess?

“It doesn’t always work,” he admitted. “Sometimes, it just gets too heavy to deal with. And it becomes really hard to focus on the happiness. But there’s no sense in not trying, you know?”

“Then are you just fighting against your own sadness all the time? That sounds exhausting.”

“It is. But it’s better than giving in.”

“But you don’t have to be like that all the time, Button. You don’t always have to fight.”

“I know. And I remembered that last night. And I’m thankful for it. For you.” He gave me a warm smile. “All that stuff from my past? It hurt. It hurt a lot. But you helped me work through it, and now it’s over with and I can move on.”

“It’s not that easy,” I muttered.

“No, and that’s why I cried last night,” he said. “But after I got that out of my system, I knew there wasn’t any point in letting it get to me all the time, because the past is something I can never change, no matter how hard I try. And neither can you.”

I felt my eye twitch. “So I’m helpless? I can’t control anything? How is that supposed to help me?”

“You’re not helpless, Sweetie Belle,” he declared. “Neither am I. Even if I can’t change the past, something I can change is today, and tomorrow, and the future. Because right now, I’ve got a lot going for me. I have Eternity, I have the Crusaders, I have you… Why let the past hurt me when stuff that awesome is in my life?”

…It made sense. All of it. He was right.

“So… why?” I said through gritted teeth.

“Why what?”

I clenched my eyes shut as memories invaded my mind.

My parents yelling at me. Diamond Tiara bullying my friends. The eyes of everypony in Ponyville, staring, scrutinizing, judging me.

“Why does it still hurt so much?”

I felt it. I felt their eyes. I felt the hurt. I felt the sting of pavement against my face as Captain Romana forced me to the ground. I felt the sense of betrayal as Shadow Song revealed how close he had been to me all my life. I felt the fear from when Silver Spoon confronted me on the train.

I felt the confusion of my cutie mark, its meaning, and what it meant for my destiny. I felt the weight of my future, bearing down on me, not caring how unprepared I was to meet it. I felt the pressure of all the expectations that I would soon be forced to confront as I was thrown out into the world with no idea how I’d survive.

I felt the tears, threatening to break free.

I felt the hurt.

I felt a softness on my shoulder.

“I know it hurts, Sweetie Belle,” came Button’s voice. “I know it’s real. It’s never not going to be real.”

“Then how?” I choked. “How do I make it stop?”

I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see me cry… but instead I felt my cheek brush against his shoulder.

“You don’t make it stop,” he whispered, his voice soft, yet firm. I felt his forelegs wrap around my shoulders. “You just fight through it.”

“How?”

“Think about something else. Think about now.”

“Now? What was that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno! Like, about the stuff out here.”

“Out here?”

“Yeah. Out here. The park. It’s nice out here, isn’t it?”

…Yeah. Yeah, it was nice out here. I could hear kids laughing. Trees rustling. In the far distance, there was the din of traffic from the streets, and the hustle and bustle of the ponies that traversed it.

I could hear the rosy tones of a violin sweetening the air. Probably a busker? No, more sounds were joining in. A cello. A piano. There was a string trio out there somewhere, starting a public performance.

I shuddered, but took a deep, shuddering breath, soaking it all into my mind.

In. Out.

“Now think about the other cool things in your life,” came Button’s voice again. “The cool stuff. The stuff that makes you happy. Think about your sister, and how awesome she is for always being there for you.”

A quaint dinner. My favorite food. A bottle of cream soda. A beaming smile. Two glittering blue eyes. And lips that uttered their unconditional support.

“Think about the other Crusaders, and how excited they are for your cutie mark.”

Scootaloo, standing in her chair, regaling us with epic tales of my pretend future, the rest of us reduced to laughter.

“Think about Sanctuary, and Miss Prosperity, and how you’re about to go meet an Eternity developer in the flesh.”

Billowing brown locks beneath a tricorn hat. Being reduced to a blubbering mess as one of the creators of my second home stood before me. Praising me.

“Awesome stuff, right?”

…Yeah.

Yeah, it was pretty awesome, wasn’t it?

“Also, you know,” he added. “Me.”

I blinked. “…You?”

“I’m, you know… pretty awesome too.”

…Pfft.

“…Right?” he ventured.

“Damn it, Button,” I muttered, choking back a laugh.

“W-what?” he huffed.

“Nothing, nothing.”

I never imagined there’d be a day where I’d find your stupid nasally voice in any way soothing, but here we were, I guess.

I pulled back, wiping at my eyes. My hooves came away perfectly dry.

“Feeling better?” he asked with a hint of cautious hope.

Tenderly, my awareness poked around inside my mind for any trace of the pain from earlier. It was still there, but it felt… numb. Distant. It was thrumming under the surface, but it wasn’t an overwhelming pressure like it had been a few minutes ago.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I feel a lot better.” I released a deep breath and looked up at him. “Thanks, Button.”

“Anytime.” He leaned back, but his hoof never left my shoulder. “And listen, you gotta talk about this stuff too. Don’t bottle it all up like that. I’ve been with you this entire week, and so have the rest of the Crusaders. We know your head’s a mess. We’re here if you need to cry for a bit. Just like you were for me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” I sniffled. “Maybe… maybe tonight. After today is over and we get back to the hotel. I think I could use a chance to unwind.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “But you’ll be alright for now?”

“I think so.” I nodded my head.

“Good.” He stood up and held a hoof out for me, a toothy grin overcoming his face. “’Cause we’ve got a tournament to get to.”

“…Yeah.” I grasped his hoof in mine with a loud clap. At his touch, I felt his strength surging through my veins, like the warmth of a hot stew on a cold day. I felt it loosen my joints, flood my face, and fill my heart with confidence.

It was much easier to smile now, and so I returned his with a wide grin of my own. “Let’s go be awesome together.”

“Heck yeah. Together.”

S I L V E R S P O O N

I had no destination left in mind but my hotel. What was the point of doing anything else? Where was there left to go?

It had only been half a day of wandering aimlessly along the sidewalks of Manehattan—past the shops and the signs, through all the ponies whose faces I would never remember, whose names I would never know—and already I could tell that the weightless sense of liberty that had carried me through the morning had faded away.

The spectacle of the city had worn off, its sights and sounds a sea of white noise, mere window dressing to a life that wasn’t mine. Its people were aliens—impersonal, uncaring, irrelevant. To me, they were nothing. To them, I was nothing.

I was alone.

And I regretted it.

I regretted not having a direction to walk, a place to go, an activity to undertake. I regretted not having a single soul with whom I could potentially share those experiences. I regretted not having a stream of conversation to chase away the endless noise of nothingness.

I regretted not being wanted—needed—by somepony for no other reason than the fact that I was me.

…

…I regretted leaving Diamond behind.

She was my best friend. We did everything together. And without her, it all seemed for naught.

I should have seen it coming. I should have known it would be like this. For Sun’s sake, the warning signs had been brought to bear against me not two days ago, that sunny Ponyville afternoon when I had walked home alone from school for the first time in what felt like years.

And still I had ignored it. Why had I been I so foolish? What had made me think that leaving her behind was by any means a good idea? How come I didn’t just listen to her? How did I—?

…Listen to her?

Why would I need to listen to her?

She did not dictate the terms of our friendship. I did.

…

Did I?

Was I truly the one in control?

Or was she?

…No. No. This was a dangerous line of thinking. I was better than this. I was better than her.

‘A coward without your snobby little friend to hide behind.’

No. I’m an independent mare. I don’t need Diamond in my life, I can take of myself. Look at how much I’ve accomplished on my own!

‘It’s not like there’s anyone else in this backwater besides me that’s worth spending time with.’

“No. You’re wrong. I have friends. I have my networking contacts. I have my entire business! You aren’t my world!”

‘You’re just her bitch that does her dirty work!’

“How dare you!”

‘A cowardly dog too afraid to do anything without her master!’

“You’re wrong!”

I felt the heat rise in my chest. These accusations, they stung, burnt, like whips against flesh, biting at me, snapping at my sanity, tearing apart my pride. I wouldn’t stand for it! The Crusaders… Sweetie Belle… how dare she, how dare they…!

“I am not the dog, I am the master!”

The words, cold with fury, echoed back into my ears.

…Oh dear.

Where was I?

…Just an alleyway. Somehow, I had steered myself off the street into a quiet, unassuming little crevice between buildings. Nopony was around.

I was alone. Not a soul had been here to witness my outburst.

…

No. That was a lie. I had said those very words. Yesterday.

To Sweetie Belle.

…Why?

“Because my integrity was on the line,” I said to nopony in particular. “She challenged my pride, and I wouldn’t stand for it.”

Did it matter? I was a saboteur, I operated in the shadows and I never showed my hand.

“That’s right!” I asserted. “I am!”

And yet I told her everything. Why reveal myself to the idiot girl?

“Because she’s wrong! She’s a fool who would dare levy such foolish accusations against me!”

Then why did I let it get to me? Had her words truly incensed me so?

“Nothing incenses me! I am always in control!”

Then why, you stupid dog?!

“I AM NOT A DOG, I AM THE MASTER!”

I shouted at nothing. I didn’t care. The words had already left my mouth, and in between my panting breaths, I could still hear them reverberating across the alleyway.

Even I could tell how hollow they were.

The Crusaders were right.

Sweetie Belle was right.

Diamond was in control. She had always been in control. She chose where we went, what we did, and how long we did it. I merely upheld whatever demands she pleased. She formed the backbone of all my most meaningful social interactions.

I suppose she was easy to manipulate. I suppose it was my choice to be her friend. I suppose I had the power to subtly influence her actions in my favor.

But it didn’t change the fact that, ultimately, all of my decisions were predicated on hers. Without her, I was lost, alone, and aimless. An accessory without a wearer. A shield without a sword. A harmony without a melody.

In my efforts to dominate Diamond, I had unwittingly enslaved myself to her whimsy.

Why had I been such a fool? How did I not realize that I had come to rely entirely on Diamond for my own happiness? How did I realize that she had wormed her way into every inch of my world?

…No.

There was one place where her hooves couldn’t touch, where I could exercise my own free will, entirely devoid of her influence.

Eternity.

That Sun-forsaken game. I had only played it to get close to Sweetie Belle, to reinforce my superiority over her.

But now? Now, it was a diversion, a means for me to fill the void left behind by Diamond’s absence, protecting me from the inherent loneliness that followed. If I ever needed a distraction from the troubles of my life, it gave me the opportunity. It gave me the means.

Of course, that stopped being an option as soon as mother left the house, and Quicksilver’s jealous fury decided to take center stage. From that point on, there had been no sanctuary, and I had blithely endeavored to find a new one here.

Now, it was just me, myself, and Manehattan.

I had tried to make this city mine. And I had failed.

I was alone.

What was I to do?

Author's Note

Calm before the storm.

Credits:
Thanks to Zaid ValRoa and Fourths for pre-reading and editing. Fourths is a funny editor. She amuses me greatly.

Most of you are probably aware that I've been writing this chapter for a long time now. I have been. And over the last several months, it's only gotten bigger, and bigger, and bigger, to the point where I've realized… wow. Okay. This chapter is gonna break 30,000 at this rate. I really need to split it up.

So here you go. First part of Chapter 13, now named "Reflection Sum". The first 8,000 words or so of the 26,000 I've written so far. That means this is only one third of the Vision of Confluence as it stands now.

Expect more soon.

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13. Reflection Sum – Part 2

P A R T T W O

S W E E T I E B E L L E

“Stars alive.”

No kidding. Talk about ritzy. This hotel was leaps and bounds beyond what I could have imagined.

“You sure this is the place?” I asked Button.

“Waldam Astoria,” he said with a nod, pointing at the embossed golden sign above the glittering awning.

Yeesh. “Eternity must be selling like hotcakes if they can afford a place like this. You think they booked the entire hotel?”

“That would be super-cool, for sure,” said Button with a chuckle as we approached the doorway. “But they probably only got the ballroom.”

The stallion standing at the front opened the door for us as we approached. “Good afternoon, madam and sir.”

“And you as well,” I said with a curtsey, remembering my lessons on social etiquette.

“To what do we owe you the pleasure?”

“We’re here for the Eternity event!” Button exclaimed with absolutely no sense of decorum.

“Ah yes.” He indicated with a hoof. “That would be the Vanderbit Room to the left of the lobby. The event begins in two hours.” He stepped aside, and with a curt exchange of nods, we trotted in.

The inside of the hotel was even more magnificent. Hooves pranced across reflective marble floor, their sharp clops echoing throughout the lobby. Around us spiraled tall pillars that rose to greet an ornately-painted ceiling. A breathtaking glass chandelier hung, sparkling with brilliant points of light. From somewhere as yet unseen came the tinkling notes of a grand piano, decorating the lobby in rippling glissandos.

“This is so cool,” said a reverent Button.

I could only muster a dull nod of my head in response.

“C’mon, the guy at the door said it was this way!” Button grabbed my hoof and trotted off towards the left of the lobby. And I, still puzzling out the implacable grandeur, matched his stride in silence.

This was way bigger than I expected for it to be. And I didn’t even just mean in size. Why all the glitz and glam? Why a ballroom in one of the fanciest, most expensive hotels in Manehattan? Over a video game, of all things?

“Mare, it’s too bad your sister had already booked the other hotel by the time we got the invite,” he said excitedly as we strode past ornate lounging areas and the stately-looking ponies that occupied them. “I’d have been down to stay here if Miss Prosperity were offering.”

My insides seized up at the mention of her name, and I felt a nervous chill run down my spine. Somehow, in all of the overwhelming fanciness, I had completely forgotten we were about to meet Miss Prosperity.

Miss Prosperity. One of the developers behind Eternity. One of the curators of the world that I called my second home.

And that’s when I was slapped across the face by the full force of what exactly was about to happen.

I was going to meet one of my heroes! How the heck was a nopony like myself supposed to process that? I had never done anything like this before!

…What was I talking about? Of course I had. I knew the Elements of Harmony! I knew the Archmage of Equestria! …Gah, but they were all pals with my older sister! It wasn’t the same! Gah!

“W-wait, Button!” I quickly freed my hoof of his grasp. “Just gimme a second! This is happening way too fast!”

“Too late!” he grinned, rounding the corner. “We’re here!”

Gulp. My eyes followed his into the room—a massive, open-entryway ballroom, above which hovered a banner with the word ‘ETERNITY’.

He trounced inside like it was nothing, and I numbly followed him in.

As expected, the inside of the ballroom was a lavishly ornate affair. It was wider than it was deep, and cordoned by velvet ropes into three distinct sections, the recessed center area featuring a dance floor and a stage towards the front.

Unexpectedly… the room was also a huge mess. There were tables and chairs haphazardly scattered everywhere. Ponies were running to and fro, carting equipment and rolled-up stratoscreens every which way.

“Looks like they’re still setting up.”

“This looks like chaos,” I said quickly, glancing over my shoulder. “Maybe we should get out of the—“

“Goodness, are attendees already showing up?” came a womanly voice to our right, and we turned to face…

…a tall unicorn mare.

With a white-coat and a billowing red mane that surged past her shoulders.

And a tricorn hat.

And she was coming straight this way.

…Awww fiddlesticks.

“So sorry!” she said breathlessly as she trotted up to us, brimming with a matronly aura. “The event doesn’t start for a few more hours, and we’re still trying to get everything ready! If you could please—”

“Yes, apologies for that,” I said quickly. Seeing an out, I made to leave. “We’ll go ahead and get out of your mane—“

“Hi, Miss Prosperity!”

…Button, you friggin’ idiot.

Miss Prosperity’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Have we met—? Wait… you sound familiar.” Her eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Aren’t you—?“

“It’s me, Mash!” he squealed in excitement, running up to greet her. “From Sanctuary!”

“Oh! Oh, goodness, yes! Hello!” she replied, her face lighting up like the summer sun as she met his outstretched hoof. “Thank you ever so much for coming, it’s so wonderful to have you here!” She paused for a moment. “Though I, er, imagined… well—”

“Taller?” Button giggled his stupid happy giggle.

“Well, no… just, I didn’t realize you were so, um, young!”

“That’s what you said the first time you met us, silly!”

“Oh! Did I? I’m so sorry.” She blushed daintily, her manner so endearing that I’d’ve forgiven her for ethnic genocide. “Things have been really busy today, so— oh! MacGuffin, Amaranth, the two-meter tables are going to the vendor area, right side!”

“You got it, Props!” came the hearty reply of a gray-coated stallion. As he changed course, he made a point to whirl his messy dark-blue mane dramatically about the air like a wanna-be fashion model.

“Oh, quit being such a poser, Mag,” muttered a motherly-looking pink-coated mare behind him.

“Can’t help it, Ami, my hair is fabulous,” he joked, turning to Miss Prosperity with a melodramatic look. “Agree with me, for it is true!”

“You won’t be making runway with that five o’clock shadow,” replied Miss Prosperity with a light chuckle.

“Gasp! You dare besmirch the face fuzz!” He feigned outrage for a few moments, before his face fell flat again. “Seriously though, don’t diss the manly stubble. It adds character.”

“Your characters have more character than you, Mag,” teased Miss Prosperity.

“Oh snap,” said Button in awe.

His jaw dropped, but before he could reply, Miss Amaranth spoke over him. “Prosperity, how many tables do you need on stage?”

“Just two, if you please, and push them to the back!” said Miss Prosperity, waving her hoof. “Also, Amaranth, do you mind taking the floor? I need to step outside to speak to our guests of honor!”

“Ooh, they made it? Lovely!” replied the mare called Amaranth, immediately ticking off some boxes on her list before waving at us excitedly. “Good to see you here! Wow, you two are adorable. Go ahead and get them settled in, Props! I got things covered for now!”

“Yeah, and while you’re at it, take a break!” added Mister MacGuffin. “You’ve been working like crazy, go grab a sandwich and sit down for a bit!”

“A break? Are you sure?” asked Miss Prosperity, to which she received a very flat look from both ponies. “…Alright, fine, I get it, I’ll go take a break. Thanks for your help, you two!”

“Yep, see you in a bit!” replied Miss Amaranth.

Miss Prosperity turned back to us. “Right, well! Let’s go outside, shall we?”

She led us out the door and towards a quiet lounging area just across from the ballroom, before turning back to us with a smile on her face.

“So sorry about that! We’re still in the midst of preparations, and things have been quite hectic, so forgive me if I’m a bit… frazzled at… the…”

Her speech petered off as her ice-blue eyes roamed to… oh Stars, she’s staring at me, whadoido?!

“…moment?” She blinked once, and then again. “Is that… are you Dovetail?”

“…Yes?” I nodded slowly. “Um, hello.”

“H-hello…” she said, nervously gazing into my eyes… no, past my eyes.

And onto my cutie mark.

Hoboy.

“…May I?” she asked in a near-reverent whisper.

“G-go right ahead.”

Her approach was cautious and her expression mesmerized. I could see her eyes tracing the contours of the mark, like she couldn’t believe it was true. Honestly, it was just a little discomforting to be under such close scrutiny by somepony I barely knew.

…Yep! I’m going to pretend that was just plain ol’ discomfort, and not, you know, complete and total mortification from having attention lavished on me by somepony I admired. Whatever helps cleanse the red off my face. Stars, I better not be blushing.

“Goodness… it’s so real,” she said breathlessly. “I mean… not that I didn’t believe you when you said it, but… to see it in person, it’s just…”

“Awesome, right?!” exclaimed Button, in what I could only describe as an act of conspiracy with Miss Prosperity to maximize my embarrassment. That little traitor.

“…Yes. Yes, that’s a good word for it.” Her smile glowed even brighter. “Awesome.”

It… wasn’t that awesome. Not after what it did to my week. But damn it, I couldn’t bring myself to argue the point, or crush that delirious smile on her face.

She blushed as she met my eyes. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? Miss Dovetail, I’m so glad you could make it. It… really, it’s an honor to meet you.”

…Huh?! She was honored to meet me? No, nonono, this was all backwards! Gah! Okay, okay. Calm down, Sweetie Belle. You got this. Remember courtly manner! …Wait, no, that doesn’t apply here, it only works when— ah, screw it.

“The honor is mine, Miss Prosperity,” I replied with a trepid curtsey, doing everything equinely possible to ignore the hammering of my heart against my ribcage.

She giggled lightly—it was working! …I think. “Miss Dovetail— is it alright if I call you Miss Sweetie Belle?”

I nodded mutely. “Just Sweetie Belle is fine.”

“Sweetie Belle.” She smiled softly. “I know we barely know each other, but I hope that it isn’t too forward of me to say that it… it really fills me warmth knowing that my work was able to inspire your mark. Congratulations, Sweetie Belle.”

Excising my tone of whatever contempt I felt towards the cutie mark in question, I replied with a curt bow of my head. “Thank you, Miss Prosperity. You are too kind.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sweetie!” groused Button as he punched me in the shoulder— ow! “Why you gotta be so stiff?”

I glared daggers at Button. He eased off. “Ehehehe…”

“Just ‘Prosperity’ is fine.” She smiled easily. Too easily. “It’s alright, we don’t need to be formal.”

Dang it, but she was so cool and so much more mature than I was and oh my Stars I wish I was half as calm as she was right now!

“I know, Miss— err, Prosperity,” I said, racking my brain for something to say. “I’m just… a little frazzled right now too. It’s been a really long week—“ nope, bad direction, don’t spoil the mood with your personal problems “—and everything’s been happening so fast, what with clearing the Vault, and getting my cutie mark, and learning about Shadow and Stranger, and hearing about the tournament and traveling to Manehattan and going to this event and meeting you and—“

“Sweetie Belle,” said Button, putting a hoof on my shoulder. “Breathe.”

I shut my trap as soon as I realized I was rambling. Or maybe because my face was burning up hot enough to bake cookies on my cheeks. Or maybe I needed to ponder the sheer irony of Button telling me to breathe.

But he was right. I was just blurting out verbal garbage and humiliating myself in front of Prosperity. Miss Prosperity, who was standing there amid the storm of chaos unfolding around us—ponies running around and tables being arranged and the room being set up and the planning she was no doubt undergoing in her head even as she spoke to this idiot spilling spaghetti all over the place. And yet, she just stood there, serene as a sunset, the patient smile never leaving her face.

I needed to slow down. My anxiety was getting me nowhere.

So I did as Button said—breathe in, breathe out—and tried relaxing enough to start choosing my next words with more intent.

“Sorry,” I finally said, looking up at Prosperity. “I guess I’m just getting caught up in the…” Stress? Pressure? Anxiety? No. Stay positive. “…The excitement of it all.”

Her expression softened, and her next reply came in gentle tones. “I understand. I can imagine that things have been pretty… exciting for you as of late.” She echoed my hesitation with that word, as if handling something fragile. “But I’m glad that, despite everything, you were still able to make it. If it makes you feel any better, I’m hoping I can make this event a chance for you to—” a momentary pause that lasted just a tick “—catch your breath, and hopefully not have to worry about too much for a spell.”

Great. She had caught onto my distress. I couldn’t decide whether to be mortified that I had been so damn transparent, or relieved that she was apparently sympathetic to my problems.

Whatever. It’s not like I could screw it up any worse at this point.

“Yeah,” I replied with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I hope so too.”

“And, if I can be honest for a moment,” she continued, stepping closer and lowering her voice, “I’m really, really relieved you two are here.”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Why?”

“Well,” she said carefully, “let’s just say projected attendance wasn’t looking too pretty yesterday.”

“Really?” Button said. “Not a lot of ponies were coming?”

“No. Generating interest in the event has been something of a… struggle. But when I made a global Eternity announcement this morning that Dovetail and Mash of Sanctuary would be in attendance, we got a surge of interest.”

“Cool!” exclaimed Button.

“Do you honestly think ponies care about us that much?” I asked like a total jerk who needed to bite her tongue right now.

She chuckled. “I wasn’t joking when I said your team has been making waves. Why do you think I sought you out in the first place?”

“Yeah, she’s the community manager!” said Button. “She knows what she’s doing!”

“…Right,” she agreed, nodding quickly.

Yeah, hey, Sweetie Belle, maybe you should shut up before you question the smart mare’s decision-making skills. I mean, it’s not like it’s her job title or anything.

“That… makes sense,” I said. “I guess I just kinda find it hard to believe that ponies would even know my name. I’m mostly a nopony where I come from.” Well, ignoring the fact that I was the sister of the Element of Generosity, of course. But I tried not to make a habit of advertising that fact, and I wasn’t about to start now.

“Oh, don’t say that about yourself,” Prosperity said supportively. “You’re not a nopony.”

“Yeah!” chimed Button. “Your sister’s the Element of Generosity!”

…Sun damn you so much, Button Mash.

“…I’m sorry, what?” said Prosperity, her eyes widening.

I sighed heavily, but maintained my composure. “It’s not important, but my older sister is an Element.”

“Of Harmony?”

“Yes. Those ones.”

“That’s…” She blinked a few times, jawing at her next words. “Wow. I must say… never in my years did I ever expect to meet a filly quite as remarkable as you.”

That didn’t make me remarkable. I wasn’t remarkable at all. Especially not compared to Rarity.

…But it was rude to refuse a compliment.

“Thank you,” I replied in a controlled tone, “but could I ask you a favor?”

“Anything, Sweetie Belle.”

“Please keep that information on the down low. And that goes for you too,” I growled, shooting an angry glare at Button before turning back to Prosperity. “I just… after Ponyville, I really don’t wanna have to deal with the extra attention right now.”

She froze. “Oh. I’m… Sweetie Belle, I’m so sorry. I’ve been pushing so hard to have you as a Guest of Honor, but all this time I should have asked—”

“No no, that’s fine,” I quickly assured her. “There’s no way you could have known how much baggage I was carrying going into this. And besides, you did ask, and I agreed to it. I mean, I guess I didn’t really realize how big of a deal it was, but it’s not like you didn’t let me know.”

“Still, if I had known things were so tense…” She looked genuinely remorseful. Dang it, I didn’t want to make her feel bad! Ugh. How could I turn things around? Because it really wasn’t a big deal! After all, I was…

Oh hey, there we go.

“Mi— Prosperity, I promise, it’s not a problem.”

“…It’s not?”

“Nope!” I said, this time with honest cheer. “Because I’m not Sweetie Belle here, right? I’m Dovetail.”

That was most of the reason why I came here, after all. To get away from Ponyville, if only for a weekend. I stared around the room, at the ponies milling about, getting things ready.

I didn’t recognize a soul.

“I get to be somepony else for a weekend. Aside from you and Button, nopony knows who I really am,” I explained. “And… I’d like to keep it that way, if at all possible.”

Her eyes shimmered in understanding, and she nodded. “Of course. That won’t be an issue. All of the announcements up until now have been purely with your character’s name, and same can go for any appearances you might make on-stage.”

“Perfect. Then we’re all good—” Heeyyyyyy. “Waitasec. On-stage?”

“Right, that.” She turned towards the far front of the room. “We have a bit of live programming happening on the stage set up near the front, and we were planning for you two to make a few appearances during key moments of the event.”

…Yeah, I should have seen that coming. Why else would we be invited as celebrities, if not for us to have a major attention-grabbing presence? “Oh. Um, sure. That’s fine. Do you need us to do anything specific?”

“Yes, probably,” she said, staring into space for a moment. “I have an overall idea of how I want it to go, but I haven’t had a chance to work out the details yet.”

Hadn’t had a chance to work out the details? The more I listened to her speak, the more it felt like this had all come together at the last minute. Wasn’t this supposed to be a pretty big event for her company? Why did it seem like they were just… winging it? And how could she seem so calm despite all the—

“Miss Prosperity,” said Button, approaching her slowly, “are you okay?”

Alright, now what was Button up to? Prosperity was fine, right?

…Actually, no. Now that I wasn’t completely caught up in the moment of being a star-struck idiot, I had a chance to really observe her posture. Though she was good at hiding them, a few telltale signs of exhaustion began to sink in—a tiny slump to her shoulders here, a twitch to her smile there…

Nonetheless, she seemed to take Button’s question in stride. “Me? Yes, I’m quite alright. Just a bit… frazzled, like I mentioned earlier.”

“Are you sure? It seems like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” I observed. “The event’s starting in only a couple hours, right?”

“Yes, well… it’s been a bit of a struggle. A lot of things only just came together last minute, which is why your invites were so late.”

“Really? Hasn’t this event been in planning for a while?”

“It has been,” she said with a slow nod. “But it was only maybe a few days ago that I began coordinating the efforts.”

What.

“I already mentioned to you that I’m not just a community manager, right?”

We nodded. “You helped make the game, right?”

“Yes. I’m the lead writer and creative director.”

What.

“Lead writer?” said Button, dumbfounded.

“Creative director?!” I sputtered. “Isn’t that, like, the head of everything?!”

“Well… almost?” she said in a hesitant tone, as if it weren’t the most important thing in the world. “I was one of the heads. I did some things on the gameplay and technical side, but most of my job was writing the setting, storyline, and history. And a lot of the missions, as well.”

“Horseapples,” I said in awe. “So… you practically created Eternity.”

“A lot of other ponies helped, of course,” she said quickly. “But… yes. I conceived of the world of Eternity.”

And with that, all the nervousness came rushing back. I didn’t know if it were even possible for me to respect this woman more than I already did. She had played such a huge role in making the game! Why hadn’t she said anything? How did I not already know any of this?

“That’s weird, though,” said Button, the information not seeming to have fazed him at all. “It sounds like a totally different ballpark from what you said you’re doing now.”

“It is,” she confirmed with a nod. “The development team and the publicity team are usually completely separate. But the whole studio’s been wanting to do a big tournament like this for at least a couple months now, something they could market as a big industry publicity event for our company.”

“A couple months seems like a lot of time,” I noted.

“It was, but the executives only gave marketing the green light to actually move forward about a month ago. They booked the date and event space shortly after. But they didn’t realize how little time a month was, in the grand scheme of things. Most of their ideas to drum up publicity didn’t work like they thought it would.”

“Why?” asked Button. “A lot of what you told us about seemed like a really cool idea.”

“But most of those ideas weren’t in place until I came aboard,” she admitted. “And, well… it was as Dovetail said when we first spoke. Most of our demographic is somewhat solitary, or too young to make the journey on their own.”

Oh mare, I had hit a little close to home with that comment, hadn’t I…

“But things worked out, didn’t they?” asked Button.

“Eventually, yes, but not after a bit of a panic,” she replied. “With the date approaching fast, the executives were starting to doubt that the event justified the expense, so marketing began asking around the studio for help to drum up ideas.”

Button appeared to be in thought for a moment. “If the game is finished, then that means most of the developers weren’t busy, right?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “Most of us were actually wrapping up development on the next expansion—” oh Stars, a content expansion! “—but I had some time to pitch a few things, since the bulk of my personal duties were… finished.”

…Huh? ‘Finished’? Something about the way she said that word…

“And I’m guessing they really liked your ideas,” Button continued, apparently not noticing.

“Essentially,” she said with a nod. “With all the free time I’ve had over the last few weeks, I’ve been sort of… invisibly floating about to get a feel for our fans. You know, find out their thoughts on how the game was going, what the biggest topics were, what everypony seemed to care about the most. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to them to directly observe our fan community for ideas.”

“You mean they hadn’t thought of that before?” I asked, a little bit baffled. “That seems kind of obvious.”

“Right? That’s what I thought!” she said indignantly. “But at least it made sense to them too, after I mentioned it. The more I pushed them in that direction, the more they wanted me to help them out.”

“And what did you find out in the end?” asked Button.

“Well, something the marketers didn’t realize was that all these people weren’t just players. They were also creators, like artists, musicians, writers and such. And they were making their own things inspired by the game.”

I blinked. “Really? Ponies make Eternity stuff?”

Prosperity tilted her head at me quizzically. “Very much so. A lot of players spend tons of time lounging around the Last City drawing art, or making remixes of some of the game’s music, or writing and sharing stories about their characters and their adventures. And there’s a ton of it out there. I knew that ponies did this in general, but I was pretty blown away when I found out exactly how much.”

“I honestly had no idea,” I said, dumbfounded.

“…Huh. I found out maybe a month or so back. I’m… surprised you didn’t know by now.”

“She doesn’t actually spend a lot of time at the Tower,” said Button, giggling.

I whirled on Button. “You know about this too?!”

“Yep!”

Wow. Talk about out of the loop. “I… huh. I’ve never even seen that before.”

“That’s what happens when you spend pretty much all of your time in the library or running around Old Gryphos trying to track down Autumn’s Lair,” he said, shrugging.

“Well, to be fair, there hasn’t been any real place for these artists to congregate,” explained Prosperity. “We’re actually planning on introducing a sort of ‘bazaar’ just outside of the Tower, where our players can showcase their own creations. An ‘artist’s alley’ of sorts.”

“So, like you’re doing here?” asked Button.

“Exactly,” she replied with a proud grin. “I convinced our team to showcase player-created art at the event, to tie-in with the reveal of the same feature in Eternity itself. That’s why we’re setting up a market area for artists to sell their works, and also planning a kind of dance, with fan musicians slated to perform.”

Clever. I glanced towards the open façade of the ballroom, where it seemed like most of the preparations were starting to come together. I could tell that the room was being cordoned off into three distinct sections: a gaming area on the left with tables for stratoscreens, a stage at the center with an open dance area and assembly-style seating, and booths for artists on the right.

She had really thought this through, and I was starting to realize how much more there was to the event than what I had imagined from the start.

“That’s actually really cool,” I finally said, turning back to her. “Getting the community more involved definitely seems like the right move.”

She blushed a bit. “But that all only came together at the very last minute, when I jumped onboard.”

“A week ago?” asked Button.

She gave us a tired smile. “Exactly.”

Wow. She wasn’t kidding. “That’s… really not a lot of time at all.”

“No, no it wasn’t,” she said. “Which, unfortunately… is why both of your invites came so late, and why I only have a little bit planned for you so far.”

Horseapples. I didn’t blame her. I glanced at Button, who was looking back at me with a meaningful expression.

He turned back to her. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

I nodded in agreement. “Maybe we can help take some of the load.”

Her posture seemed to visibly relax at that. “That would be a huge relief. In fact, I already know that having you two here so early is going to be a big help.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, putting on my gameface. “What can we do?”

“Well, for starters, I need to know what you’re capable of. Most of what I’ve come up with so far involves standing on a stage and addressing a crowd, or being a part of stage events, and I wasn’t sure if that was something either of you would be comfortable with.”

“Oh, that’s something we’re comfortable with, alright,” said Button, turning to me with a huge grin. “Years and years of Crusader talent shows.”

“That was when we were kids.” And far more fearless, to boot. But now, we’re older! And a lot warier about what other ponies think of us when we make fools of ourselves in public. After all, with age comes critical self-examination and crippling personal doubt!

“But that doesn’t stop us from knowing how to get a crowd excited,” he reasoned.

“That’s exactly what we’re looking for,” said Prosperity. “We have a short lineup of live programming, and we need ponies who can work a crowd in between events, as well as participate in them.”

“What kind of events?” I asked.

Prosperity put a hoof to her chin. “Not very many, actually. Right now, just a short introduction, then the tournament needs officiating. And we were toying with the idea of Sanctuary having a play-session with myself and a few other developers.”

“That sounds fun!” Button exclaimed, proudly holding a hoof to his chest. “Leave that to us!”

Well, thanks for speaking for both of us, I guess.

“Sweetie Belle?” asked Prosperity in concern. “You seem quiet.”

Oh hey, she noticed. “I’m just thinking about it.”

“Well, I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with,” she said assuredly. “How do you feel in front of a crowd?”

“…Alright?” I replied uneasily.

“You’re kidding, right?” said Button in disbelief. “You’ve acted and sung in front of crowds before, Sweetie Belle! You know you’ve got what it takes!”

Yeah, but those are scripted! I’ve never just flat-out spoken in front of crowds before. I suppose I’ve been to enough events in the past to know what would be expected of me, and I guess it was also true that my upbringing had involved a lot of drills on speechcraft and performance arts.

“Plus, this isn’t just any random crowd,” added Button. “This is our crowd. We’re gamers, they’re gamers. We know these kinds of people.”

“Yes, exactly!” said Prosperity excitedly. “You can draw from your mutual passion for Eternity and channel that into your presence on stage.”

“And I’ll be right up there with you, Sweetie,” he assured me. “Just play off me, and I’ll cover you when you’re feeling iffy about something.”

Okay. Just relax. The odds were in your favor. What could go wrong?

Oh Stars, don’t think that phrase. Nope nope nope. Erase that from your head.

“Alright,” I said, stifling the unease in my heart. “Yeah, we can handle that.”

“Great!” said Prosperity. “Oh, you have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear that.”

Yeah, you say that now.

…Urgh. Sweetie Belle. Stop making this about you. You’re here to help Prosperity, so you can at least be confident for her sake if not your own.

“Glad to help,” I said with a nod.

“Excellent,” she continued, pulling a piece of paper from her bag. “Actually, now that I think about it, I have a list of potential events here that you two can start planning for— oh, Mag, Ami!”

Prosperity waved a hoof over our heads, and we turned to see Mister MacGuffin and Miss Amaranth approaching us from the ballroom.

“Heya Props!” he said heartily, trotting up. “How’s your break?”

“Better than you would believe,” she replied with a grin. “How’s setup coming along?”

“Almost done!” said Miss Amaranth, still scanning the checklist on her clipboard. “All that’s really left at this point are setting up the stratoscreens, and we’ll be good to—” she glanced up, and her eyes found us. “Oh, hello!”

“Hiya!” said Button.

“Good afternoon,” I said with my usual curtsey.

“Oh, aren’t you just the most gracious little filly!” she cooed, and I blushed at her compliment. “You must be Dovetail and Mash. So good to meet you! My kids are huge fans.”

Kids? Fans?

What.

“Um, likewise!” I said anxiously. “Er, well, the meeting you part, not the kids part. I don’t have kids. Obviously. Umm.”

I coughed. Her eyes lit up in mirth and she snickered.

Damn it, Sweetie Belle, you really do suck.

“Right, where are my manners?” Prosperity turned to us as well, indicating with a hoof. “Dove, Mash, this is MacGuffin and Amaranth. They’re part of my writing team.”

“Good to meetcha!” said Mister MacGuffin as we all exchanged hoofshakes. “Congratulations on your cutie mark!”

“Thanks,” I said, in numb realization that I’d probably be dealing with this reception all weekend.

“The entire studio was so excited when Props told us,” said Miss Amaranth almost dreamily.

“And to think that some of our top players are still so young,” said Mister MacGuffin with a chuckle. “You two must be pretty darn extraordinary.”

“Mmm, to say the least,” hummed Prosperity, giving me the slightest of winks.

“Says the creators of the coolest freakin’ game in Equestria!” exclaimed Button. “You guys are wicked awesome!”

“Mm, yes,” said Mister MacGuffin, nodding sagely. “Yes, I can get used to this.”

“Oh hush!” Miss Amaranth swatted him in the shoulder. “Don’t mind Mag. He’s just… well, he’s…”

“He’s MacGuffin,” Prosperity said with a giggle.

He chortled. “Sounds about right!”

“Yes, well, we just wanted to check up on you, Props,” said Miss Amaranth. “How are things going?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m alright,” said Prosperity with a genuine smile. “The break was definitely what I needed. What’s say we head back in and wrap everything up?”

“Sounds like a plan!” said Mister MacGuffin, turning to Miss Amaranth. “Ami, what’s left on the docket?”

“Well, the tables and sound systems are set up,” she said, consulting her checklist, “but we can’t move the seats yet, and we’re still waiting on the stratoscreens and consoles.”

“They’re not here yet?” asked Prosperity, looking worried. “Those were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. Who has them?”

Miss Amaranth gave a sideways glance to Mister MacGuffin, who merely shrugged. “Big Miller’s bringing them in his carriage. We were expecting for him to show up while we were taking care of tables, but…”

“That’s… not good,” muttered Prosperity, checking a clock on the wall. “The event’s supposed to start in a couple hours, and the tech is gonna take by far the longest to set up.”

“And the hotel won’t let us start setting up the seats, either,” said Miss Amaranth worriedly. “They carted them in already, but the hotel says it’s some kind of… union thing?”

“Union thing?” Prosperity furrowed her brow. “They’re just cushions! What’s wrong with moving around a bunch of cushions?!”

“That’s what I told them!” Miss Amaranth said in in exasperation. “But the hotel staff said they’re ‘legally obligated’ by unions to have the hotel staff move them for us! Except they’re busy preparing another ballroom!”

“Uhhh…” I felt a nudge on my shoulder from Button, who was watching the commotion in what could only be described as awe. “Maybe… we should give them some space?”

No, no. Watching these clearly-grown adults descend into a chaotic maelstrom of panic was mesmerizing. In a morbid sort of way. I could almost imagine the locks of Prosperity’s mane curling up in anxiety.

…Okay, no, now I was starting to feel pretty bad.

“I feel bad for Miss Prosperity,” said Button, echoing my thoughts.

“Yeah…”

“Props! Ami! Mac!” bellowed a voice down the hall, causing everyone to turn towards the source—a stocky, clean-shaved gray stallion, stumbling towards us in clear exhaustion. “Sorry for being so late, traffic was a killer!”

“Ey, Big Miller, you made it!” exclaimed Mister MacGuffin.

“Oh thank the stars!” said Prosperity. “Please tell me you have the screens with you.”

“I’m fine, huff, thanks for asking,” he managed between gasps of breath.

“I’m sorry, Miller!” she replied, wringing her hooves in apology. “It’s just, our schedule’s become so—”

“Relax, I’m screwin’ with ya,” he said with a placating wave. “Carriage is out front, gonna need some help carting stuff in.”

Suddenly, Button hopped forward, apparently sensing an opportunity. “Hey, um, do you guys need help?”

Prosperity blinked. “I… appreciate the offer, but…”

“You know these kids?” asked Mister Miller, eyebrow raised.

“They’re our guests of honor,” she explained, “but that’s all the more reason why they shouldn’t need to—”

“Please, it’s alright.” I stepped forward to follow Button’s lead. “We want to help get everything ready in time for the event. If there’s anything we could do, anything at all…”

“Yeah, just tell us where we’re needed and we’re on it!” said Button confidently.

“Hey, I’ll take any hooves I can get,” said Mister Miller, turning to trot back down the hall. “Carriage is outside!”

I looked back at Prosperity, who stared at me for just a moment, her expression conflicted. But eventually, her shoulders relaxed.

“I suppose I can’t stop you, then,” she said with a smile that was at once both tired and relieved.

“Great, lead the way!” said Button.

And with that, we trotted out the hall.

S I L V E R S P O O N

It was settled. I would be returning home. Today.

The plan was to retire to my hotel room post-haste, pack everything I owned, check out, and catch the afternoon train home. To this end, I weaved through crowds and navigated across streets, letting nothing stand in my way.

No more dilly-dallying about town. No more screaming at brick walls in abandoned alleyways. It had been folly for me to pursue my emotional whimsy, to let myself fall prey to outbursts of emotion. Those were not my way, and they did nothing to fix my problems.

Of which there were many. I had left Ponyville at a critical moment in my life, and staying any longer in Manehattan would be ignoring a problem that needed to be addressed immediately. Any further delays would simply cause the situation to spiral out of control even more than it already had. Every second mattered, and I could no longer tarry.

First order of business: head straight home and deal with Quicksilver. A full day away was more than long enough for her to cool her temper. I had to set her straight. I had to establish whose authority claimed dominance in mother’s absence. I had to remind her who was the heir, age be damned.

No doubt placating my sister would require a delicate touch, though it would most certainly try my patience. She wouldn’t listen to me if I merely put my hoof down. No, I needed to play this smart, play this right. Appeal to her pride. Appeal to her concern for mother, and correct her misgivings about my own supposed lack of it. It was a tiresome task, dealing with her, but I would not make progress otherwise.

From there, I would be heading to Diamond Tiara’s to apologize. Of course, the apology would be a farce, as I had nothing to apologize for. But I needed to stay in her good graces. And sometimes one simply had to set aside one’s pride in order to reassert control.

I had been foolish. I had been clumsy. I had lulled myself into a false sense of security, into a state where even a mewling little tryhard like Diamond Tiara could take advantage of me. No more. I was not her plaything. I needed to reassert control over our relationship, flip the power dynamics back to the proper position, and restore the status quo.

My hotel was in sight now, and, thanks to the pace I had set for myself, it wasn’t all too surprising that I had made it there with plenty of time to pack before the next train. Good. Progress was good. One step at a time. I crossed the street, my eyes locked to the doors…

…which burst open, a stocky gray stallion cantering into the daylight with due haste. Hmph! Were they honestly letting such claptrap into the Astoria these days—?

Ah. A tall mare with flaming red hair and an elegant cloak and tricorn hat quickly strode out behind him, leading a throng of other ponies into the daylight, all rolling carts. No doubt she was the leader of the pack, and the rest were merely the help—

Suddenly, a diminutive little white ball of puff emerged from the open entryway and scurried down the steps.

And she was dreadfully familiar.

I adjusted my glasses to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, and sure enough, it was Sweetie Belle, shortly followed by the brown blob that I could already tell from this distance was Button Mash.

Oh dear.

I quickly threw myself behind the staircase leading up to the entrance of the hotel so that neither of them would see me, and peered out from between the rails, unable to control my scowl.

Ugh! That damnable filly! What in blazes was she doing here at the Astoria?

I watched as the two cantered towards a large parked carriage that the rest of the group had begun to gather around, and Sweetie Belle quickly began exchanging words with the elegant red-maned mare.

Who was that woman? What business did Sweetie Belle have with her? Was she some sort of high-society figure with connections to her sister? She didn’t look like anypony I recognized, but just the thought of Sweetie Belle rubbing fetlocks with the elite of Manehattan was enough to set my furs on end. I had never known the filly to pursue social capital before, and this display was unsettling, to say the least.

Eventually their conversation was interrupted by the mane-shaven gray stallion, who emerged from the carriage laden with several crates that he placed on the carts, which Sweetie and Button began hauling back towards the hotel.

Curious.

After they disappeared inside, I swiftly trotted out of my hiding place and made my way towards the doorman, who was holding it open for the other ponies.

I trotted up and quickly checked the open doorway to ensure that Sweetie and Button weren’t on the other side. Seeing no sight of them, I addressed the doorman.

“Excuse me.”

“Good day, Madame Silver,” he replied in his posh Trans-Antleric affect. “How may I be of service?”

“There’s quite a lot of commotion. Is something going on?”

“Indeed there is, Madame! In less than an hour, a large promotional public event will be underway in the Vanderbit ballroom.”

“Oh? Of what sort—?”

Wait. Wait wait wait. A large public event. That Sweetie Belle is attending.

…Oh dear.

“A tournament, hosted by Mythic Corporation, for their video game Eternity.”

His declaration struck with the reverberating finality of a gong.

Oh dear.

Before I could even think for a moment of the staggering odds that this could be happening here of all places, a new voice perked up from right behind me.

“Oh, are you here for the Eternity tournament?”

I whirled around to find myself face-to-face with the red-maned mare, herself pulling a cart up to the entrance door. Up close, she looked somewhat bedraggled, but otherwise emanated with dignified presence.

“We’re still preparing, but we’ll be underway in less than an hour!” she said with a practiced smile. It spoke legions of her upbringing and social capacity.

The stallion behind her cursed under his breath. “Drat, more ponies are showing up already?!”

“No, sorry,” I explained as curtly as I could. “I was just curious of the commotion.”

“Oh, my apologies,” she replied with a hoof behind her neck. “I didn’t mean to presume.”

“It is no trouble,” I said, stepping backwards as I made my way towards the door, anxious to make myself scarce before Sweetie or Button could show up. “I’ll let you be on your way.”

The doorman bowed and stepped aside to allow me passage. “Good day to you, Miss Silver.”

I nodded at him, then turned to bow a quick farewell to the red-maned mare—

She was standing, frozen at the doorway, her eyes boring into mine.

What? What was with that expression?

“Silver?” she uttered, blinking. “As in, Silver Spoon?”

Oh? Perhaps she knew of my heritage? She certainly seemed the sort to frequent a higher class of pony, and my name did carry weight in some circles. “Yes?”

“What, do you know this one too?” asked a larger blue stallion approaching from just a few feet behind her.

“I do!” she exclaimed, strolling in as her team followed closely behind.

Did we now. I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Have we met?”

“We haven’t had an opportunity to until now!” she said excitedly. “Oh goodness, I was under the impression you wouldn’t be attending at all!”

Attending? “I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken for—”

Wait a moment.

Sweetie Belle said that the mare she spoke to from Mythic had known my name. And, more importantly, the character associated with that name.

I glanced towards the west wing hallway. Seeing no sign of Sweetie or Button, I turned back to her, my gaze darkened and my expression grave.

“Ah, yes, Prosperity! It's so good to meet you in person!" I said, coating my words with a carefully controlled veil of cheer. "Actually, I'm quite glad I ran into you when I did. I have important news! Could you spare a moment of your time? In private?"

Mere moments passed before the mare’s face paled. With a slow nod, she told the rest of her crew to go on without her, then followed me as I quickly made my way towards the east wing of the hotel, which was mercifully empty.

Her visible trepidation made it quite clear that she knew a line had been crossed. Of course, I wasn’t just cross, I was furious—she had nearly revealed my identity in front of several other ponies—but I stifled my anger. I was certain this mare was the one named ‘Prosperity’ that Sweetie Belle and the rest of the team had spoken to. But I still had no measure of her, who by her dress and manner seemed far more important than I gathered through Sweetie Belle’s hearsay.

No. This needed to be handled delicately.

This close, I took stock of the full extent of her height. Not only did she appear to be over twice my age, her height exceeded that of the average mare. As I was still only a smidge taller than a typical filly my age, this gave her a natural poise and grace over me. Furthermore, she knew many details about me, while I knew next-to-nothing about her.

She had me at a disadvantage. So I had to project confidence. And, more importantly, I had to find out how much she knew.

As I slowed down, she was the first to speak. “Miss Silver, I—”

I swiveled on my hooves to face her.

“No apologies necessary,” I said, cutting her off immediately. This conversation would take place on my terms, even if I had to crane my neck a bit to wage it. “I presume that you are Miss Prosperity?”

“That’s right,” she said with a hesitant nod. “And you are, in fact, the Miss Silver Spoon that I believe you to be?”

Of course, the answer was yes. But I should take the opportunity to establish my standing early in the conversation.

“As the heir of a multinational corporation, my name carries some weight in certain circles,” I informed her matter-of-factly. “So it will depend on how you know of me.”

She paused, appearing to take a moment to absorb that information, before continuing. “Through the billing and registration info you provided when you created an account for Eternity. You are… well…”

She hesitated. Perhaps now, knowing what kind of mare I was, she recognized the value of my anonymity. Good.

I urged her on nonetheless. “Go on. Nopony is here.”

“…You are Shadow Song, of Sanctuary,” she finished quietly. “A guildmate of Dovetail and Mash.”

Just as I thought. She knew everything. And even though I had surmised as much mere moments after we had met, the sheer weight of how much was now at stake brought me no comfort. I could be outed through means entirely beyond my control.

But there was no undoing what was already done. Now it was time to do damage control.

“Then yes,” I confirmed. “You do know of me.”

“I… see.” She said nothing more.

From the look on her face, she knew that I was not happy with her. I wondered if I scared her. While I relished the thought… that would not do. I needed to loosen her up. Let her know she could at least trust me to be civil. After all, she would be more open to suggestion if she felt she was in my good graces.

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting to be meeting one of the creators of my favorite video game,” I said, daring to tip the scales slightly in her favor just enough not to reverse the balance of power. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Prosperity.”

This appeared to take her by surprise. She likely didn’t suspect I would be making small talk. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Silver Spoon.”

“If I may ask, what role did you perform at Mythic?”

“I’m the… Creative Director of Eternity,” she said.

Really? Well then, that was quite impressive. But… why the pause? Something about the way she said that seemed to put her at unease.

Hm. I dismissed it as mere humility. “So you’re one of the masterminds behind this little universe of ours?”

“I suppose I am,” she said with a hesitant chuckle. “Though I have a large team to also thank for helping me with the heavy lifting.”

“I see. Nevertheless, this is quite the honor. The game is an impressive bit of artistry, and your work is truly captivating.”

“It’s nothing, really,” she replied, waving a hoof. “You said you’re the heir of a corporation?”

“The Silversmith Mining Company, yes. We deal in multinational resource acquisition and industrial metalworking.”

“That’s quite impressive.”

Hm. Compared to earlier, her reactions were remarkably more conservative. Perhaps even measured? “Thank you.”

“And on top of that, you’re guildmates with the sister of—” she froze “—wait, I’m not supposed to… er, do you already know?”

“Know what?” I asked. “Ah, that Dovetail is Sweetie Belle, the younger sister of Lady Rarity, the Element of Generosity?”

She nodded. “Yes. Though I was told by her that she would rather keep it under wraps.”

Oh, I was very much aware, to my utter revulsion. Not that there was anything wrong with Lady Rarity herself, of course. Just that Sweetie Belle would have the fortune of being borne into such a high standing. I doubt the girl would be worth anything otherwise.

“I’m aware, yes," I replied. "It's no surprise. That girl has practically no ego to speak of, so I hardly think she'd ever want to parading around her familial connections."

“Haha, yes,” she chuckled. “Despite her extraordinary circumstances, she seems quite the humble filly.”

Humble? Pah. More like insecure. After all, Sweetie Belle likely knew just as well as I that mere circumstance didn’t make a mare.

No. Skill did. Power did. Control did.

And it was time to demonstrate what I was capable of.

“Which brings us to the crux of a… concern that I’ve had,” I said, trotting up slowly, but never breaking eye contact. “You see, earlier this week I had a particularly interesting conversation between myself and Dovetail. Apparently she had just finished talking to you. About the tournament, about our guild… and about me.”

I was standing less than a meter in front of her now, my gaze never having broken from hers.

“Specifically, the part where you revealed to her that I lived in Ponyville.”

This close to her, our height difference was far more pronounced. But I ignored that. After all, I was not the one who committed a slight. I owed her nothing.

“Now, the issue, as I’m sure you’ve realized, is that she has no knowledge of Shadow Song’s true identity. So you can imagine how this caused a bit of a… rift, between us.”

I began pacing.

“You see, Dovetail and I—as Shadow Song—are… friends. Very close friends. We trust each other very much with things we wouldn’t tell others. I don’t know what it is about the Stratonet, but I believe it’s our presumed degree of physical separation that made it possible.”

Of course, there was more to it than that. Not that Prosperity would need to know the full details, of course.

“But for her to find out that somepony she trusted as a friend and confidant, yet somepony whose identity she has no knowledge of, was actually so very close to her all this time? And without her having any idea who it was? Well. Let’s just say I imagine her trust in me is nothing short of shattered. And to say nothing of the fact that I play a stallion in-game! She nearly accused me of being a… predator.”

I shot a look at Prosperity, and she visibly flinched.

“So you can see where my concerns may lie,” I finished.

The response was immediate. “Miss Silver Spoon, please… accept my sincerest apologies. When I saw that you lived in the same town and were nearly the same age, I wrongfully assumed you knew each other outside of the game.”

“And I understand why you would make that assumption,” I conceded to her. “For what it’s worth, you’re actually on the money. Dovetail—that is, Sweetie Belle—and I are students at the same school, and share a graduating class.”

“So you do know each other outside of the game?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. “And you’re not friends?”

“She despises me.”

Her eyes widened. “…What? Why?”

“I’m very close friends with someone she loathes. This makes her hate me by proxy.” Hm. There was another card I could play. I turned to the side. “See this bruise? I received this not two days ago. One guess as to who was responsible.”

“I… wow.” Miss Prosperity was breathless for a moment, staring at my side. “How did that happen?”

“It’s complicated, and I don’t feel like getting into the specifics, but there was a… physical altercation between her and my friend. In my attempts to put an end to it, I sustained this blow.”

“I… see.” She was silent for a moment, digesting this information.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t hold it against her. My friend instigated the fight by provoking her.”

She stared at me. “But… I don’t understand. Why?”

I sighed. “As I said, I’m not interested in getting into the specifics—”

“No, sorry, not that,” she hastily clarified. “I meant, why are you… friends with her? In-game? Why go through all this effort to disguise your identity for someone whom you think despises you?”

Hm. Conundrum. How to answer this? As much as I was tempted to lie about my opinion of Sweetie Belle, I hated lies. They were brittle things, susceptible to deconstruction.

Better a twisted truth than a fragile lie. I formulated my story.

“When I first started playing Eternity, I sought out people I knew. She was somepony I knew. So I gravitated towards her. And before I knew it, I was a part of her guild. Over the months, its members became ponies I could rely on. You’ve seen how much we’ve accomplished together.”

“I have, yes. Your team has incredible chemistry, and you seem like a very tightly-knit group.”

“Then I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from. I want to maintain my connection with the guild. But… with what’s happened between me and Sweetie Belle, any prospects of my continued membership are… tenuous at best. Because now… well, I wonder if she’ll ever trust me again.”

I let that sentence hang on a tone of helplessness. This way, I could make it sound like I was trying to hang onto something that was unfairly being taken away from me. If I wanted Miss Prosperity to do as I wished, it would be better to play to her sympathies.

An uneasy silence passed at this proclamation.

“Not that I’m trying to guilt you any further or anything,” I hastily added. “You’ve made your apology, and I accept it. I just… I’d just rather she not know I was here. It would only exacerbate the problem. As long as I can have your assurance on that, then I have no further concerns.”

“Of course, I understand.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the west wing, likely to check if Sweetie Belle had returned. “Though it will be difficult to hide your identity at the tournament…”

“As I said before, I wasn’t planning on attending.”

“…Right, of course. That’s disappointing, but given the circumstances, I don’t blame you.” She looked askance. “But… how is it that you’re here?”

“Pure, staggering coincidence,” I said flatly. “I took a trip to Manehattan as a sort of vacation from Ponyville. The Waldam Astoria is one of the most luxurious hotels in Manehattan, and my family has connections with the owner, so it was only natural that I end up here. And I certainly wasn’t expecting for your company to be holding the tournament in an Astoria ballroom. It seems…” I tongued for the right word, “…ill-fitting, for a video gaming venue?”

“Ah, right, concerning that,” she said, her tone shifting to the practiced manner of a public figure. “It’s meant to be something of an industry event as well. This video gaming tournament is the first high-profile event of its kind to ever be thrown, and there are various enterprises throughout the entertainment world that have expressed interest in sending representatives.”

“Ah, so you wanted to pick a venue that would impress.”

“You know how it is,” she said with a chuckle.

That I did. Very much so. These were the actions of a very ambitious entity trying to impress other very wealthy entities. Business is as business will be.

That being said, it was clear this mare knew how to work the farm. She clearly had the resources and the moxie. Per my evaluation, I honestly would put my bets on her success.

“And you’re… absolutely certain you won’t be attending?” she asked.

“Hm?” I blinked, apparently having zoned out. “No, unfortunately not. For more reasons than just the fact that Sweetie Belle will be present.”

“Oh?” Miss Prosperity gave me a curious look. “Do you… mind my asking?”

Hm. Well, this mare was likeable enough. She was actually beginning to endear herself to me. I might as well humor her. Perhaps it’d even pay dividends to have such a high-profile executive on the inside of the company that makes Eternity.

I thought back to what I told the Archmage all those months ago. The same tactic would work now.

“You’re a mare, like myself, so perhaps you can empathize with me on this point, but… well, I’m set to assume a rather prominent role in my family’s company in the very near future. This, out of necessity, requires me to take great care in controlling my public image.”

“I believe I can see where this is going already,” said Miss Prosperity with a sigh.

“As I knew you would. As a mare, especially of my standing, it can’t be known that I play video games. I’m sorry, but even if there were no bad blood between myself and Sweetie Belle, attending… simply wouldn’t be an option for me.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“I’m glad you do.”

She sighed, staring out into the lobby.

“It’s just… such a shame,” she said wistfully. “It really is. You shouldn’t have to be ashamed for loving what you love.”

“But that’s just the way the world is,” I reasoned. “Sometimes we can’t fix the world. All we can do is live in it best we can.”

“I suppose that’s the truth,” she said with a resigned sigh.

And in that moment, I understood. I understood why it mattered to her so much. Here was a highborn mare, just like myself. But unlike myself, she was in the thick of it all. Not just playing video games. Making them. With an artistry that betrayed the perceived immaturity of her medium.

How she got into the position she held… I couldn’t possibly fathom.

“But you know, Miss Silver,” she said, eliciting my attention once more, “there are things you can fix.”

“Hm?” I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t mean to pry, or anything, but… even if she does learn of your identity, I don’t think your friendship with Dovetail is something that needs to end. Have you considered telling her the truth?”

If you don’t mean to pry, then don’t pry. “No.”

“Why not?”

It was obvious. What was the point of this line of questioning? “Because she would despise me even more than she already does for betraying her trust. She’ll know that our friendship was a farce.”

“How can you say that? You’ve spent hours and hours with Dovetail at this point. Just because your identity was a ‘farce’ doesn’t mean that your relationship is.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said darkly, “but you know nothing of my relationship with Sweetie Belle.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but I didn’t let her speak.

“Over the years we’ve known each other, our relationship has been entirely defined by animosity. We don’t like each other. We have never liked each other. I don’t see that changing anytime within the next fifteen millennia.”

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “You have liked each other. As guildmaster and guildmate.”

What a loathsome prospect. “Even as my guildmaster, I keep her at arm’s length. I’m less interested in her as a friend, and more interested in the guild, and what they can help me accomplish in Eternity.”

She winced. “That’s… terribly cold.”

“I will not deny that it’s cold,” I admitted, “but at least it’s civil. And quite honestly, after years of hostility between us, I think that’s far more than she deserves.”

“But… how could you say that about her? Didn’t you say she trusts you? Don’t you trust her?”

“She does.” A lot. “And I trust her as well.” A lot. “Of what few secrets I’ve revealed to her about my own life, I know I can have faith in her discretion. But just because I can trust her doesn’t mean I like her.”

“But what if she discovers your duplicity? Would you continue to trust her then?”

“She already has, remember? At least in part.”

Prosperity flinched. “Oh… right.” A moment’s pause. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Do you still trust her, even now that she’s discovered something so integral to your identity?”

“…Yes,” I repeated, growing weary of this. “Unquestioningly.”

“That seems awfully risky. What sort of things do you even confide in her?”

“Exactly why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t,” she said quickly. “I just… don’t want you to be hurt, or for my mistakes to come back to bite you.”

I suppose that was fair. She made a mistake, and she wanted to know its potential consequences. Maybe to cover her own hide, in case the situation got worse and I decided to recant my forgiveness. But either way, it would cost little for me to settle her uncertainties.

“We talk about our lives. Our feelings. General insecurities. Maybe romance or friendship, and dealing with people. She asks for friendship advice often.” As always, more to it than that, in many surprising ways that I had no desire to disclose. “But nothing that can compromise my identity, I assure you.” Hopefully that’s enough to assure you. I was growing more irritated by the second.

“Is that so.” She hummed. “That’s quite personal, and yet… you’re certain you feel nothing towards her?”

“I… no,” I declared with what I hoped was absolute finality. “No, I don’t. Nothing in regards to friendship. I trust her enough not to betray my trust, and she trusts me enough not to betray mine. She has my loyalty, if nothing else. That’s enough.”

That was met with silence as she contemplated my answer, and I still wondered why the mare cared so much about my relationship to Sweetie Belle.

“Is that the last of your questions?” I asked, making it clear I was not interested in waiting for her, or to interrogate me further.

“I suppose it is,” she finally said, shrugging her shoulders. “If that’s how you feel, that’s how you feel, and I guess there’s no helping it.”

“There never was.”

“…But, based on everything you’ve told me, may I offer some advice?” she ventured carefully. “I promise I won’t ask any more questions.”

Was I interested in listening to this mare’s thoughts on my life situation?

…I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps she had some game-specific insight to offer that could help mollify Dovetail. A means of circumventing my relationship with her entirely, while maintaining my ties with the guild, would be ideal.

“You may.”

“Alright.” She took a breath. “You probably already know this is coming, but even if you don’t like Dovetail, I suggest fixing your relationship with her. You stand to lose much if you let it to fester.”

“That much is obvious,” I said with a scoff. “But how exactly do you propose I do that?”

"It doesn’t matter how you do it,” she answered. “And it doesn’t matter if you’re sincere either. But I have confidence that you can do it. You are clearly a smart mare who knows how to work other ponies, as you have been trying so very hard to do to me this entire conversation.”

I froze, and stared at her. She did not stop.

“Your guildmates provide a stable, reliable team with which you can achieve the game’s goals. But your tension with Sweetie Belle threatens all of this. Everyone on the team obviously holds a great deal of respect for her as a leader, and if you start having problems with her, then it’s going to reflect badly on you as a guildmate. This will create disharmony in your team.

“You know just as well as I do how important it is for ponies to like each other in order to work well together. Being likeable creates trust, trust creates unity, unity creates cohesion. It opens ponies to suggestion, compelling them to a consider other perspectives and proposals. Like you have compelled me to consider yours.”

This… this mare. What was she doing? What in all the Stars was she trying to pull?

“I would also suggest revealing your identity to Dovetail. She will take it better if you do so on your own terms than if something or somepony else does it for you. And you know as well as I do that there are elements beyond your control which threaten to do so. I am one such example. Until you met me, I was an unmitigated risk that could have blown your ruse at any time. I very nearly did. You know what stopped me? Dovetail.”

Dovetail? Sweetie Belle herself? “How in Equestria would—”

“She interrupted me when she realized I was about to say your name, and compelled me to preserve your privacy. I obliged.”

She… she what? She was that close to figuring out who I was, and she… prevented it? Despite wanting to know for months?

“The point is, you were lucky. You may have a knack for risk management, but even cautious risk-takers recognize that there are things beyond their sphere of influence. You will not always have the luxury of preempting disaster. Wildcards like myself are everywhere, and you cannot be everywhere at once.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong about the last part. But did the gains outweigh the risks in the first place? How could I be so sure she’d forgive me? “Miss Prosperity, if I reveal myself, the chances of her accepting me are—”

“Higher than if you were revealed through other means,” she interjected, holding up a stern hoof to silence me. “You may not think your friendship to her is real, but she does. She will have a vested interest in preserving that friendship, even despite your betrayal of her trust. Because regardless of how you feel about her, you have exchanged moments of personal trust with her, and she will put that into consideration in her evaluation of your continued friendship.”

Continued friendship? “You say this as if it’s guaranteed. Do you honestly expect her to simply forgive me on the spot just because I was honest?”

“Of course she won’t, at least not immediately. But if she cherishes your friendship more than she scorns your deceit, then she will forgive you in time. She has come to rely on you for emotional support, and she won’t want to give that up easily. She cares about you, and she thinks you care about her.”

“But I don’t care about her!” I snapped.

“Then simply don’t tell her,” she retorted. “You are clearly very well-practiced in lies of omission, so I imagine that will be mere child’s play for you.”

I gritted my teeth at her proclamation, saying nothing.

“Honestly, it is not that hard. Simply tell her that you wanted to protect your identity, just as you have done the entire time you’ve known her. She is not an insensitive mare. She will respect that. That respect, your history together in Eternity, continued assurances that you have her best interests at heart, and your honesty, will work together to counteract your deception.”

“It won’t counteract years of animosity,” I muttered.

“So you think, but how can you be so sure? Ponies change. And with your silver tongue and sharp wit, you are the ideal candidate to induce that change. I’m sure you can manipulate your way into her good graces without much trouble.”

…

“You’re flattering me,” I observed.

She gave me a cold smile. “Is it working?”

I said nothing.

What could I say?

For the first time in my life, every aspect of my character that I prided myself on had been deconstructed and used against me.

How could anyone respond to that?

Did any of it really matter?

“Is the trouble even worth it?” I asked quietly.

“I don’t know, is it?” she asked, her tone somehow free of scorn. “What do you stand to lose? Your guild, several of your friends, a reliable team to fight alongside. Maybe, if you lose all of this, you might lose the drive to play Eternity at all.”

…Hmph. “No offense, but I’ve lived twelve years of my life without it. I think I can manage.”

“That you have,” she mused. “And perhaps that’s all that matters. You’re a ‘made mare’ after all, aren’t you? The heir to a multinational mining corporation. Perhaps that’s enough for you. Perhaps you can delete your character, cut all ties with your guild, never play again, and move on with your life. After all… it’s just a video game. That’s all it is. Right?”

I sat there in silence, contemplating her words, contemplating all that I stood to lose, contemplating this… video game. Was that all it was? Did it matter? Did any of it matter? Did I need Eternity? Did I need my guild?

Did I need any aspect of that life, at all?

“I must apologize, Miss Silver Spoon, but you’ll have to excuse me,” she said, and only as she leaned back did I realize how much closer she had gotten to my face. “I have an event to prepare for, and I must be on my way.”

She made to turn, but then suddenly stopped, locking eyes with me once more. “But if I may leave you with one last parting piece of advice… your so-called ‘friendship’ with Dovetail? The thing you so adamantly claim to care nothing for? Well… I wouldn’t take that for granted, if I were you.”

She tipped her tricorn hat. “It was a pleasure and an honor speaking with you, Miss Silver Spoon. I hope the rest of your afternoon fares well.”

And she departed without another word, leaving me in the silent halls of the east wing.

Alone.

Author's Note

Enter Player Three.

Credits:
Thanks to Zaid ValRoa and Fourths for pre-reading and editing. My editors continue to be a bucket of laughs. ( "Stars alive." | Fourths on Hyphens | The problem with hands )

The conversation between Prosperity and Silver is one of my favorite conversations I've ever written. It's a lot of fun getting into Silver's headspace, especially now that she's realizing that she isn't the only one capable of playing the Great Game.

Man. I'm awful. I really should have just written some kinda story on high-society politics instead of this. =_=

Prosperity is a very interesting and challenging character to explore. She, like many other characters in this story, is inspired by an influential figure in my life, an inspiring artist that I've been incredibly blessed to call a friend. Her character arc will very much reflect her history working in her industry over the last few years. I only hope I can do her story justice.

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28. "READY?"
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13. Reflection Sum – Part 3

> T h e s t o r y s o f a r . . . _

P A R T T H R E E

S I L V E R S P O O N

It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

I was going home.

I haphazardly piled belongings and clothes back into my saddlebags, caring little to ensure it was packed properly. I needed to pack. Didn’t matter how. The next train out of Manehattan would be leaving within the hour, and I had already wasted enough time.

Staying here was stupid. This entire trip was stupid.

Personal belongings.

Accessories.

Toiletries.

All in.

What was left?

Clothes.

I trotted over to the closet and slid open the door.

There was a dress. A lovely one, at that. It was a white one-piece garment, a steel-gray number with sharp blue accents. It lacked well-defined edges, corners, or angles. Just graceful, flowing lines, extending from the collarless neckline all the way to the flared hem that swept just a tinge past my rear hooves.

Striking, yet subdued. Bright, yet balanced. The very pinnacle of streamlined, seductive, minimalistic design. Revealing enough to show that there was a pony underneath, but obscuring enough to warn them that the pony still had her secrets.

I hadn’t even gotten an opportunity to wear it.

And all that reminded me of was how wasteful this trip had been.

I had accomplished nothing. I had driven myself into an emotional frenzy. And for what? Just so I could see Sweetie Belle sauntering in with her stupid little event? So I could see her mingling with such a dazzling example of a high-class mare like Prosperity?

No doubt that damn filly was having a grand old time. And here I was, being forced to confront that shameful fact that we had both gone on the same trip to the same city, and yet she was accomplishing so much more than I, for whom the trip had merely been a colossal and potentially destructive waste of my time.

She was just soaking it up, wasn’t she? All the attention. All the fame. All the prestige. Things she’d likely never felt in her life. Things that were commonplace for me.

Pah. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to go down there and show her what for.

And I knew I could. She was playing at high society. I was a master of it. I could show her. I could show everyone. Prove to them that she couldn’t hog the spotlight, that I was far more worthy of it than she could ever hope to—

NO.

I buried my face into my pillow, trying to shut out my thoughts, trying to shut out the world, trying to shut out what I knew was about to happen only ten stories underneath my hooves.

I couldn’t go in there.

I couldn’t.

If she saw me…

…she would know.

She would know everything. She would know I was Shadow Song.

I couldn’t let that happen. No matter what trite arguments Prosperity would present to me.

I had spent months getting to know Dovetail. Months. And, until Thursday, I had made a flawless run of maintaining my anonymity.

Was it worth it to show up and sacrifice all that I had made for myself in the game? Just for a little validation? A tiny slice of home? Just to prove a point? Just so I could bask in the liberty, the freedom, the power of holding the spotlight that the weekend had so cruelly denied me?

Just to not be alone for the rest of the night?

…Did it matter at this point?

My friendship with Dovetail was already strained. Now that she knew I was not the ‘man’ I claimed myself to be, it was foalish to think that things could continue in this fashion, no matter how close we were. I had already violated her trust.

I knew it to be true. That’s simply the way it was.

My friendship with her was strained. All of my friendships were strained.

…

No, that wasn’t true. I had more friends, even in Eternity.

Freya. Stranger. Zaid. Even Button, to a certain extent. They were my friends as much as they were hers.

To say nothing of the fact that I was truly good at the game. Hel, I was great. I wasn’t just some casual getting a piggyback ride by more experienced players. I could well and truly hold my own, both in the Crucible and in the wilds beyond the City walls.

And that, more than anything, gave me every right to be there. I was an Everfree Crusader, and the world of Eternity was just as much my home as it was Sweetie Belle’s, no matter what she had to say about it.

…Home?

Mere months ago, I would never have called a place like Eternity home. In fact, I would have laughed at the very notion.

How did things end up like this? How could it be that Dovetail—Sweetie Belle—had unwittingly become the tentpole to such a substantial tract of my social life?

…There was a certain sense of irony to that, wasn’t there? I never would have found Eternity had it not been for her. Not only had she given me something to distract myself from the strains of my day-to-day, she had given me a home away from home. She had given me Sanctuary.

Sanctuary… they were my comrades, my allies. They sought nothing from me but my friendship. Their companionship was granted of their free will. I never desired to manipulate them, for I was always free to speak my mind, to challenge their opinions. They let me assert control, with the mere expectation that I only relinquish mine in turn.

They were my friends.

…And they had no idea who I was.

What was I to them? What could I ever hope to be in their eyes? Did they consider me a friend?

No. How could they? I was the illusion of a friend, a pale shadow. They extended their friendship to me. And through my machinations, I spat on their offerings.

Prosperity was wrong. It wasn’t just Dovetail’s friendship on the line.

It was everyone’s.

How could she think it was so simple? She thought she was so damn smart and that she knew me better than I knew myself.

She knew nothing. She knew nothing of my circumstances.

And I did. I knew. I knew what would come of my attendance.

The consequences weren’t worth it.

At all.

S W E E T I E B E L L E

As Button and I wheeled around the corner towards the ballroom, we found a dozen or so uniformed ponies milling about in front of several large carts, stacked high with plush seating cushions. They glanced up as we approached, and one of the stallions in the front started towards us.

“Hey, we brought the seats and we’re ready to—” He froze, looking us over. “Waitaminute, you two aren’t the organizers! You’re just kids! Are you even supposed to be back here?”

Ugh. ‘Kids’ again. Whatever. “Sorry, we’re not the organizers, but we’re part of the event,” I explained, holding up my badge and waving my hoof behind me. “They should be able to—”

They were gone!

“What the heck?! Button, where’d the organizers go?”

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “They were right behind us just a second ago.”

Criminey. I turned back to the stallion. “Looks like they fell behind. Is there something keeping you from setting up the seats?”

“We don’t know where to put them,” he explained. “You never provided a floor plan for us.”

Crap.

“Nah, we got this figured out,” Button said as he trotted in, staring about the room.

“Button,” I said haltingly, “we have no idea—”

“Left side of the room is for games,” he observed. “Those stands all over the place? Those are for stratoscreens. Ponies are gonna be sitting around those playing video games. So just put seats in front of those. Three ponies per fireteam, so three seats per stand.”

…Well, okay, that seemed pretty obvious, I guess. I glanced over to the other side towards the artist’s alley.

“It looks like—” Uhh, no, it doesn’t look like, it is. Speak with confidence. “Each of those stands is a market stall,” I said, staring at the lined up booths. “Ponies are gonna sit behind those selling merch. So maybe one or two seats behind each one?” Oh crap, what if they didn’t have enough? “How many seats can the hotel spare?”

“Don’t gotta worry about us running out,” the stallion assured me. “We have more than enough to fill the ballroom according to the fire marshal’s capacity rating. Five hundred heads.”

“Oh. Well then, two per stand.”

“Three for the longer ones,” Button pointed out. Yikes, I hadn’t even noticed that some of the stands were bigger than the others.

“Got it.” The stallion blew a sharp whistle and waved a hoof in the air. “You heard ‘em! Let’s get those seats down!”

The rest of the ponies sprang into action, and soon they were carrying seating cushions through the open façade of the room like clockwork.

“You sure that was a good idea?” I asked Button. “What if we got it wrong?”

“At least the seats can be moved around,” he said, looking back down the hall in worry, only looking half-convinced at his own words. “If we need to move them around, we can. It’ll take less effort than starting from scratch.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I glanced back at our carts, still laden with the packed-up consoles and stratoscreens. “Think we should start on these?”

“Ehhhhhhhh,” he replied uneasily. “Maybe let’s wait on that one.”

By the time half of the seats were deployed, the rest of the Mythic crew came running down the hall with their own carts in tow.

“Sorry, sorry!” said Miss Amaranth, charging down the hall. “We got held up unloading.”

“Yeah, and Props got stopped in the hall by some kid that’s attending or something,” said Mister Miller. “No clue what the deal with that is.”

Really? “Is now a good time for her to get held up like that?”

“It’s fine, her job is to deal with ponies,” Mister MacGuffin said with a shrug. “Ours is to get the event running—”

“Umm, Mac,” said Miss Amaranth, poking him in the shoulder. “Who told them to set up the seats?”

He did a double-take. “Huh? Uhh… that’s weird.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be in charge of that?”

“…Yep,” he said, staring at the ponies running around the room.

I bit my lip and stole a glance at Button. He gulped, then stepped up. “Uh, we did.”

They slowly turned their heads to us, staring.

“He started it,” I said quickly.

“Sweetie!” He glared at me. “You told them to do stuff too!”

“…Yeah, I guess I did.” I rubbed my neck with a hoof. “We didn’t know where you all disappeared to, and we were worried that time was running short, so when they asked us what to do, we kinda just… guessed.”

They blinked at us. I suppressed the urge to kick Button in the fetlocks.

Then again, I’d have to kick myself too, I guess. Grumble. Maybe next time I wouldn’t be the idiot that listened to him.

Eventually, Mister MacGuffin let out a small chuckle, and Miss Amaranth just shook her head with one of those motherly smiles that said, ‘oh you kids, bless your little hearts’.

But Mister Miller was watching the proceedings in the room.

“I mean, it looks like they’ve mostly got it right,” he said. “Aside from needing some extra crowd seating around a few of the stratoscreens, it looks according to plan. Did you two say how to do the middle?”

“No clue what the heck’s going on there,” Button said.

“We just focused on the sides of the room that seemed obvious,” I added.

“Good to hear. I’ve got a specific plan for the middle, so it’s better I let them know myself.” He turned to us. “I appreciate you kids helping, and this’ll definitely speed things up. But, uh… please be careful not to make too many decisions without us.”

“They seem to have enough discretion to know what decisions to make and what to leave up to us,” offered Mister MacGuffin.

“No, we overstepped our bounds,” I said, bowing my head in apology. “We want to help, but we don’t want to get in the way.”

“Oh believe me, you two haven’t been getting in the way at all,” Miss Amaranth assured us.

“Mostly,” quipped Mister MacGuffin.

“Oh hush! If anything, you two have helped immeasurably. Especially with Props.”

Huh? “Prosperity? What about her?”

“I think she means the stuff she talked to us about,” said Button. “All the drama at work about getting this thing going last minute.”

“Oh, that.” Duh. “Yeah, she seems like she’s been under a lot of stress.”

“Heh, well, you must’ve said something good to her,” said Mister MacGuffin. “When we came out to say hi to y’all, it was almost like we were talking to a totally different Prosperity.”

“Not a different one, but definitely one we haven’t seen in a while,” said Miss Amaranth. “She looked more energetic than I’ve seen her in weeks.”

Oh jeez. “Well, I’m glad we could help, but… are things really that bad?”

“Worse,” he said solemnly.

Before he had a chance to elaborate, the stallion of the hotel suddenly approached us. “S’cuse me, are you Mister MacGuffin?”

“That I am,” he confirmed with a curt nod.

“How would you like for us to arrange the center of the room?”

“Ah, yeah, lemme explain that. Ami, Miller, you two mind getting started on the stratoscreens?”

“Will do, Mac!” saluted Mister Miller.

“And you two,” said Mister MacGuffin to us.

We froze. “Uhh…”

“You know how to set up Hoofboxes and PlayStables and get them all connected and stuff, right?” We slowly nodded. “Mind helping out? We could use all the hooves we can get.”

“Absolutely!” said Button.

“Leave it to us,” I agreed with a nod. “Anything we can do to help.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get rollin’!”

One hour remaining.

With so little time left on the clock, the crew was kicking it into overdrive. Every single pony had a role to play. Even us.

We were in the thick of it, sweating bullets as we lifted, moved, organized, and worked like no tomorrow. I had never done so much heavy-lifting in my life. And yet, here I was, wheeling around carts, unloading boxes, posting stratoscreens, lining up tables.

Mare, was I getting a workout.

By now, most of the consoles had been set up. I left Button to deal with the PlayStables, which I had never owned and had no idea how to work. Granted, he didn’t either, but hey, figuring it out was his problem.

…Okay, that wasn’t really true. Fact of the matter was, it would take twice as much time for two of us to figure out than just one of us.

…But then, once I did figure it out, we could probably get it done twice as fast, too.

Crap. Okay, no, stop logicking it. You’re just creating more work for yourself.

“Oi, Dove!” shouted MacGuffin over the chaos, “what’s the status on the gaming section?”

I stopped what I was doing and rose to my hooves, scanning the area. Pretty much all of the stratoscreens had been set up with a console placed just in front of it. The area was packed.

“Looks like everything’s in place, Mag!” I yelled back at— wait, did I just call him Mag? “I mean, Mister—”

“Do we have any leftover consoles?!” he interrupted, apparently not noticing my faux pas.

I swept my eyes over the area once more until I spotted the stupid balloon hat propeller thingamajigger that Button wore, sticking out just a few inches from behind the top of a stratoscreen.

“Button!”

The rest of his head popped up. “Yeah?!”

“How many consoles do we have left?”

He glanced to his side. “…A ton! Like, more‘n a couple dozen left!”

“More than two dozen!” I shouted back to Mag, and his eyes bugged out. “What’s up? Do you need any for center?”

“Yeah, but only, like, six for the stage!”

Huh. That’s a lot of leftover consoles.

“Mag!” came another voice over the din of activity, and out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted Prosperity striding in, an alarmed look on her face.

“Ho, Propsy!” he said, waving a hoof and causing several heads in the room to turn. I quickly wrapped up setting up this last Hoofbox—the screen lit up along with the magical chimes of its startup sound—and began to make my way over.

“Glad you could join us, Propsy!” said Mag as I trotted up. “How are things looking outsi—”

“I’m so sorry for not being here to help,” she said in a near-panic, “but while I was out there, ponies started arriving into the lobby in droves, and I got caught up trying to manage everyone!”

“That’s fine, Props, divide and conquer,” said Amaranth, joining in. “You handle the people, and we’ll take care of things in here. Can you do that?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” she said quickly. “They’ve practically taken over the lobby.”

MacGuffin raised an eyebrow. “What, press and industry?”

“Not just them, attendees. I count nearly two hundred from regular attendance out there waiting for us.”

“What?!” Mag exclaimed. “That many?! Already? Are you sure?!”

“Almost positive!” she replied, even more urgency seeping into her voice. “I mean, I couldn’t get an accurate headcount, but they’re everywhere! And more are arriving by the minute!”

Holy smokes. That was a lot of ponies. I glanced over at the gaming section of the room. “I’m starting to think we miiight need to set up more consoles.”

“Crap, she’s right,” muttered MacGuffin. “You said we still had, like, two dozen more lying around, right?”

“Button did, yeah.”

“Can you talk to Button to see if we can get some more of those up and running? We need way more, otherwise we’ll be leaving a lot of ponies out in the cold.”

“Sure—”

“Actually,” interrupted Prosperity, “might I borrow Sweetie— er, Dove to help outside?”

Huh? Wait, what? Me, helping manage ponies? “Umm, are you sure? I don’t—”

“You’ll be fine, I just need help with the artists,” she said quickly. “Follow me.” She trotted out and I scampered after her.

Criminey. I wanted to, like, stop her and ask exactly what the heck was going on. At the same time I figured she’d tell me on the way, and it was better for me to give her room to explain, so I held my silence.

But all she did in the moments it took for us to get to the lobby was furrow her brows in consternation. And as we emerged into the lobby, I could see why she was so on edge.

They were everywhere. Hundreds of them. The lobby had gone from a quaint, relaxing lounge of errant businessmares and hoity-toity tourists to a figurative zoo, dispersed throughout the room and mingling in just about all of the lobby seating. Everywhere I looked, there were just more and more heads, too many to count.

“Holy smokes,” I breathed aloud.

“Yes, it’s…” A pause. “Overwhelming, to say the least.”

“No kidding. I had no idea so many ponies would be attending.”

“Neither did we.”

“I mean, that’s a good thing, right?” I ventured, giving her a supportive smile. “Your event is gonna be a much bigger success than you expected.”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” she replied with an unsteady grin as she scanned the lobby. “But… I’ve never even seen this kind of crowd before. Not for… for something I’ve done.” Her momentary pride evaporated as quickly as it started when she turned to me, clear worry on her face. “Can we even accommodate this many ponies with the size of an event we’re putting on? If we can’t, it might be…”

A disaster. Yeah. Maybe. So many might get turned away at the door because there just wasn’t enough room for everypony.

She sighed, staring at the crowd again. “I just really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“I’m sure it won’t—” …Don’t say that if you’re not sure it’ll be true. “Well. For what it’s worth, all of us are gonna try and do the best we can so that it doesn’t.”

“That’s more than a mare can ask for,” she said, smiling. “Thank you.”

Yesss. Let me assuage your fears. It makes me feel warm and fluffy inside.

Her face went stern again. “Listen. I’m going to need to gather all the press and industry attendees so I can get them in the door and explain how it works and where they’re sitting. While I’m busy doing that, I need you to take care of the artists for me.”

I blinked. “The artists?”

She pulled a scroll out of her bag and hoofed it to me. “This is a list of vendors that we’ll be hosting in our artists’ alley. All I need is for you to round them up, bring them to the room, and assign them tables.”

I gave the scroll a quick scan. It was a clean, neatly-written list of names and table numbers.

“I already told them to meet off to the side of hotel registration,” she said, pointing over the heads of the collected ponies, towards a corner of the room. “So just meet them there and bring ‘em in.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you inside?”

“You bet.” She made to trot away, but something stopped her. “I almost forgot. Lemme give you the badges, too.”

After a moment’s shuffling in her bag, Prosperity hoofed me a stack of cards, each hanging from a lanyard. They were decorated with intricate Eternity-themed graphics, and imprinted upon the frontmost badge was the text: ‘Dovetail, Guest of Honor’.

“Event badges. Yours is on top. Hang that around your neck. It’ll mark you as a VIP, and it’ll also let any hotel staff know that you’re in charge if you need anything from them.”

Oh. Neat! “Can I ask them for cupcakes?”

Prosperity rolled her eyes. “Ask them for help only when you need it, silly.”

Grinning, I quickly roped the badge around my neck so that it hung freely off my chest.

“Great. Pass out the rest of the badges to the vendors once you assign them tables!”

“Got it!”

She waved me off, and I trotted into the lobby and began to work my way through the amassed crowd… which I was starting to find was nothing like I had expected.

Everypony here was here for Eternity, and it showed. Tons of them were wearing all sorts of Eternity-themed attire. Most were simple graphic tees and caps, some with saddlebags adorned with pins and stickers. But several were full-blown costumes, billowing Hunter cloaks and crafted papier-mâché Titan armor. But there were plenty of normal ponies too, dressed in nothing but the coathairs on their backs.

I passed a group of young colts on my left playing action figures and comparing Eternity merch, while their mothers looked on in baffled amusement. A throng of teenagers to my right chatted back and forth, sharing war stories of their escapades in the Wilds, or gloating about Crucible victories. A few here and there were doodling into sketchbooks.

While there were several kids around my age, way more teenagers and adults filled the lobby. And aside from a few flabbergasted mothers and the odd filly here and there, most of them were stallions and colts. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised, and maybe even a little disappointed. But that didn’t stop the atmosphere from feeling positively charged with excitement. Everyone was smiling, laughing, tapping their hooves against the marble flooring in anticipation for the coming evening.

And I felt it. I felt empowered. I felt myself basking in the glow of their enthusiasm, in the collected spirit of the crowd.

I had been in excited crowds before. But never had I felt so… connected to all of them like this. We were all here for the same reason, united in our intent, our passion, our energy.

It was exhilarating.

I was so tempted to just stand there and soak it all in, to just trot over to a random group of ponies and kick up a conversation, meet new ponies, trade banter, revel in past and future glories.

…Of course, I still had a job to do. Prosperity was counting on me and I couldn’t be distracted.

But I felt my pace quicken, just a tiny bit more. I felt a spring to my steps that hadn’t been there before.

I finally made it towards a subdued section of the lobby, where a small throng of ponies had congregated. A few of them were quietly doodling on canvas paper, sharing occasional conversation. All of them seemed to have saddlebags and carts’ worth of things—most likely their art supplies or whatever else they were selling.

These were artists, right?

Oh. Yeah. There was a sign hanging on one of the nearby columns that said ‘Artists/Vendors, please wait here’. Derp.

Okay. Great! So, all I had to do was… err…

Huh. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to break the silence.

Okay, okay, maybe I was a little nervous. I mean, it’s not like it usually makes sense for some filly to just randomly walk up to a dozen ponies in their late teens and early twenties, expecting them to pay her any heed.

Except one did. A mare glanced up from her canvas when she saw me walk up. “Hello there, little one,” she said kindly. “Are you looking to buy something from the artists and vendors? We haven’t quite set up shop yet.”

Little one?! Pfft. Okay, so maybe I was a little small for my age, but honestly! I was thirteen!

“Um… actually,” I cleared my throat, shakily. “I’m with the event, and I’m here to pick up the vendors. That’s you guys?”

That turned a few more heads. Another mare smiled. “That’s us.”

“Cool! Um, so uh, hello!” I waved a meek hoof. “My name’s Swee— I mean, Dovetail. I have your event badges, and I’ll be taking you over to the event hall so you can… get set up…”

I trailed off as several eyes widened, as if in shock. One stallion stood up, approaching me slowly. “…You’re Dovetail? Really?”

“Er… yes?” I answered, a little confused.

“Horseapples, it’s actually her,” said the mare. “Look, it’s on her badge!”

“No way.”

“Dovetail of Sanctuary!”

“The real Dovetail is here!”

Oh goodness. I hadn’t expected this kind of reception. Had all of these ponies actually heard of me?

Apparently, because as I began shaking hooves with the two in the lead, almost all of the others stood up, a few of them even craning their necks to try and get a better look.

And I couldn’t shake the fact that they were all… taller than me! A bunch of older ponies! Excited to meet me!

This was so surreal.

“Wow! I heard you were coming,” said the mare, shaking my hoof, “but I didn’t think I’d actually have a chance to meet you so soon!”

“Yeah, dude, this is awesome! I’m a huge fan!” said the stallion, barely able to contain his excitement. “Oh man, I actually have a piece of you and your guild to show you!”

A piece? What did he mean by that?

“Oh, you drew fanart of Sanctuary too?!” said the eager mare. “So did I!”

Fanart? What the hay were they talking about?!

Gah, it didn’t matter right now! We needed to get them set up before the doors opened!

“Right, um. It’s really nice to meet everyone!” I said, backing up. “I’d love to see your, um, pieces! How about we head to the hall, and then I can take a look once everyone’s all set up?”

“Sounds good!” said the mare, standing up and hefting her saddlebag.

“Great! Right, this way please!”

Without further delay, everypony began making our way through the crowd. As we trotted along, a couple of ponies made conversation with me.

“Mare, you’re actually Dovetail in the flesh,” one mare said in awe. “I had no idea the real Dovetail was so young.”

“I watch reels of your Crucible fights all the time!” said a stallion. “You’re crazy good for someone your age.”

“Well, you know what they say,” said the mare, “if you’re good at something, chances are there’s some scrappy kid out there who’s ten times better.”

“Ehehehe.” I laughed sheepishly. “Well, you guys are all artists, right?”

“Yep!” said the mare. “I draw a lot too, but most of my work is with fabrics. This Titan Mark I’m wearing is actually something I made myself.” She shook her flank a bit to show off the mark that cascaded down her legs.

“That’s awesome,” I said, staring at the intricate patterns sewn into the fabric. Having spent the lion’s share of my life in the company of a master seamstresses, I could tell the work of a true talent when I saw it.

“Dang,” said the stallion in awe. “That’s super cool. I’ve only been drawing since, like, last year.” He held up his canvas notebook.

“Holy crap,” I said before I could stop myself. It was a ridiculously detailed pencil sketch of a Guardian from behind, bearing her shield and revolver as she charged along with two others at a towering Hex Dragon twice her size.

…Waitaminute. Windswept hair, Hawkmoon in her outstretched hoof…

“It’s you!” he exclaimed with a proud grin. “You and the rest of Sanctuary’s battle against Theralon in the Citadel of Stars! I just finished it this morning!”

No way. So this is what they had meant by fanart.

“Only a year?” said the mare, glancing back and forth between him and the sketch. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He grinned nervously. “Actually, I only got inspired to start drawing because of Eternity.”

“Eternity’s been a huge motivator, yeah,” agreed the mare. “Still, only a year…? From what you showed me in the lobby, I’d have thought you’ve been drawing way longer. Your line confidence is insane for a new artist. I barely see any sketch lines.”

“Ehe, thanks.” He flushed a little at the compliment.

“That’s really cool,” I said, envious of their talent. “I wish I could do what you guys can.”

“Hah, well, we wish we could play half as well as you do,” said the mare, grinning. “Everypony’s gotta be good at something.”

I guess.

“Is this it?” asked the mare.

I glanced away from the art to find that we had reached the ballroom. Thankfully, it now looked considerably more prepared to receive attendees.

“Yeah, this is it,” I said, leading the pack of artists over to the vendor tables and pulling out the scroll from my saddlebag.

From there, it was just a matter of calling out names and pointing out which table was theirs, a process that went by quickly as the vendors got themselves situated and began unpacking their wares. There were a few unclaimed badges and tables, but I figured they just belonged to ponies who hadn’t shown up yet.

The last name on the list was the stallion’s. “Spark Sunder, table six.”

“Thanks, Dovetail,” he said as I passed him his badge. “Oh, and before I forget…” He held out his drawing of my character in one hoof and a camera in the other. “Do you think I could get a photo with you and the drawing?”

A… a photo? He wanted to take a photo? With me? “…Er, yeah. Sure.”

“Here, I’ll help you two out!” said the mare, apparently having overheard us. With a grateful smile, Spark quickly hoofed the camera to her, then gave me the drawing, before standing next to me to pose for the picture.

Feeling completely out of my element, I held up the drawing and gave my best smile.

“One, two…”

Flash!

“Done!”

“Thanks a lot!” he said, before turning to me. “And thank you so much, Dovetail. It was seriously an honor to meet you.”

“Y-yeah, likewise,” I said, holding out the drawing.

“No, that’s for you,” he said. “I’d like you to keep that.”

W-wait, what?! “Are you sure? You said you spent all week on this!”

“Yeah, one-hundred percent sure,” he nodded eagerly. “I made sure to get a ton of copies printed this morning to sell at my table, so I’d love for you to have the original.”

“I…”

I didn’t know what to say.

Up until a few minutes ago, this stallion had never met me before. And yet he had already drawn a picture of me—or, at least, my character—based on… what? The fact that I played a video game?

It blew my mind.

We quickly exchanged goodbyes and we’ll-talk-laters so that he could begin setting up his booth, leaving me to marvel at the breathtaking reality that had somehow taken hold of my world.

“One at a time, please, one at a time!”

Mister Miller’s voice rang out above the din of the crowd of ponies in the hallway as they all waited to get inside. They weren’t a rowdy crowd by any means. Just a very excited one.

The last hour or so had passed in a blur, but despite how quickly everyone had worked, there were still things left to do. Stage lights and speaker systems that refused to behave, consoles that wouldn’t connect to the net, and a very irritated head chef waxing philosophical to a frustrated Miss Amaranth about how special needs meals were a “toxic blight upon the culinary arts”.

But twenty minutes past the official door opening and there were still people outside being forced to wait as the crew scrambled to get everything together. Impatient attendees and press were beginning to wonder if the event was even on, and vendors were itching their fetlocks at the number of sales they weren’t making.

It was thus that Prosperity had made the executive decision to simply start admitting ponies and to just clean up problems as they came up. And now, thirty minutes in, things were finally starting to look like a genuine party. A steady stream of ponies was beginning to disperse towards various parts of the room—setting themselves up at unoccupied consoles, perusing the half-completed food spread, or admiring the various wares across the vendor hall.

It wasn’t the most auspicious start to the night, but it was something.

“Yes, we’re with Sweetie Belle!” came a familiar voice from a distance. “We have an urgent delivery and need to speak with her at once!”

Even through the din of the excited crowd, the elevated voice of a melodramatic fashion horse came loud and clear. I looked over towards the entrance to the ballroom from where I was standing on the center stage, and could see Rarity arguing with the doorman in charge of admissions.

Not only that, she had Miss Coco in tow! And just behind her was a younger filly who—aside from a more vibrant coat of yellow—didn’t look all that different from Miss Coco herself. This must have been her younger sister. Even her aqua mane and tail were a dead match, though they were both tied up into braids and adorned with bows, rather than cut short.

Both her and the filly’s presence surprised me. I hadn’t expected either of them to be here.

I quickly hopped off the stage, weaved my way between wandering attendees and harried workponies frantically finalizing the event, and made my way to the front door, towards the sound of her non-stop insistence.

“I don’t know anything about this Guest of Honor business, but I’m her sister Rarity, for Sun’s sake! …A fan? Ex-cuse me, but I am no fan! I am Lady Rarity, hero of Equestria, Wielder of Gen— Ah! Sweetie Belle, there you are!” She finally caught my eye as I approached. “Be a dear and explain the situation to this gentleman?”

“Miss Dovetail, is this woman someone you know?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at me for the second time that night.

“Yeah, these ones are actually with me this time,” I said quickly. “Come on in! I have your badges in the back.”

The group stepped across the threshold into the ballroom, Rarity sweeping past the doorman with an indignant huff. “Can you believe the nerve? A fan. Sun and Stars.”

“Sorry about that,” I said as I led them through the crowd and made a beeline for the back of the room. “Half an hour ago, there were a couple strangers trying to get backstage by pretending they knew me. It was… weird.”

“Indeed? Well, color me pleasantly surprised!” she said as we ducked under a velvet rope fence and approached a quiet area next to the stage that would leave us in relative peace. “I knew you had the makings of fame in you, but I didn’t expect it to manifest this early in your life. To think I’d be the one having to insist that I ‘knew someone’ just to get somewhere I was needed! At an event as spectacular-looking as this, to boot!”

“Yeah, usually that’s something I have to deal with when it comes to you,” I said with a chuckle. “How the tables have turned.”

“Indeed. Honestly, I’m relieved you came when you did. You have no idea how cacophonous the crowd is out there.”

“My fault, obviously,” I joked, eliciting a grin from my sister. “Well, the event’s starting to get into its swing, so I’m really glad you could make it before things really got underway.”

“As am I! Though it might take a few moments to change you into the dress. It is a deceptively intricate ensemble. We had to split it between multiple packages!” She placed hers in an alcove upon the side of the stage. “Our dear Coco Pommel truly has an unparalleled knack for subtle detail. Even my trained eyes underestimated the intricacy of her designs! It cost us a tad in time, but it absolutely paid off dividends in result.”

Miss Coco, despite her haggard appearance, beamed at the compliment as she placed her package delicately next to the first. “I’m just glad we got it done in time.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Coco,” I said. “I really appreciate you going through all this trouble for me.” I glanced at the filly standing next to her, who was staring wild-eyed at the events unfolding around us. “Is that why you decided to come along? Last night, you mentioned plans with your sister. I hope we didn’t intrude on that or anything.”

“Oh!” Miss Coco’s eyes widened in realization. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot introductions! This is my younger sister, Pastel.”

She turned to face me with a shy smile. “Hi there.”

“Hi! I’m— well, my real name is Sweetie Belle,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Pastel.”

“N-nice to meet you too, Sweetie Belle,” Pastel said demurely. She seemed quite shy…

“It turns out that this was the event she was planning to attend!” continued Miss Coco with a serendipitous smile. “That worked out quite well for us, considering we had to drop off the order anyways. Funny how that works out, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s quite the coincidence. I’m glad you two could make it.”

“As am I! It’s wonderful to know that there’s another filly like her that enjoys the things she does. Are you an artist like her?”

Hah, I wish. “Oh, no! I mostly just play. I wish I were that talented.” I laughed it off a bit, trying not to think about it too hard. “If you’re an artist, does that mean you’ll be vending?”

“I will,” she said with a nod. “It’s my first time vending.”

“Cool!” I said. “My schedule is pretty packed, but if I can find the time tonight, I'd love to visit.”

“Oh! Um, I’d really like that!” She beamed. Seemed like she was really excited to be vending here. “Though if you get there after the tournament starts, I won’t be there, since I'll be participating.”

“Ooh, you’re gonna be joining?” I said excitedly. “I can’t wait to see you play!”

“Thanks…” She glanced away nervously. “I don’t think I’m that great, but I want to at least have some fun.”

“I’m sure you will,” I said with a smile. “Will you be staying as well, Miss Coco?”

She nodded. “I’m going to take over for Pastel at the table when she joins the tournament,” she said with a little wave of her hoof. “I’m mostly here to support her. She was excited about coming, but also very nervous, what with meeting new people and, er, ‘vending’ for the first time and such.”

“That puts us both in the same boat then, it seems,” said a mirthful Rarity. “Here to support our sisters and keep them safe from strangers!”

“They honestly seem like a really cool crowd so far,” I said, glancing at the vendors. “Another one of the artists even drew artwork of me and my guildmates!” I pulled out the sheet and held it out for them to see.

“My, that’s… That’s stellar!” Rarity said, shocked. “The line work is magnificent.”

“And the penciled shading is a strong weight, but very effective,” said Miss Coco in agreement. “In fact, Pastel, this reminds me a lot of your cartoonist technique, no? …Pastel?”

Noticing she hadn’t replied, I glanced at the filly to find her eyes wide with astonishment.

“…This is Sanctuary, isn’t it?”

“That’s the name of your, er, guild, isn’t it Sweetie?” asked Rarity, eyes flicking to me. “If I recall correctly, that is. Pastel, do you recognize them?”

“I do,” she said quietly, her eyes tracing across the image. “I’ve followed them for… a long time.” Her eyes left the paper and rose to meet mine, filled with an analytical intensity that I couldn’t place. “When the guard out front called you ‘Miss Dovetail’… At first I thought I misheard, but… I suppose it must be true, then? You’re Dovetail?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I confirmed with a nod.

“Wow…”

She stared unblinking into my eyes, but it didn’t seem like they were quite looking at me anymore. Instead, they had the distant look of someone staring off into a middle distance.

Not that I was letting the thrill of being recognized so often today get to my head or anything, but I couldn’t help but feel bewildered that her response was so subdued compared to everypony else’s. She seemed less excited by my presence and more… mystified. I wonder why?

“Really, the lengths of your fame here seem to know few bounds,” said Rarity, not seeming to notice Pastel’s sudden change in demeanor. “Which is why I’m extra glad that we finished the ensemble. If this event deems you a mare of great import, you cannot grace this stage without looking your absolute best.”

“If you’re planning on boarding the stage anytime soon, you should probably get changed,” said Miss Coco with a token concern. “This dress doesn’t come and go easily.”

“Yes! Yes, you’re absolutely right,” agreed Rarity, an urgency entering her tone. “We must make our way backstage posthaste!”

“Yeah, good idea.” Suddenly I remembered something. “Waitaminute.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Miss Coco.

“I need to give your sister something. One sec!” I ran over to Pastel, who seemed to be staring at a fixed point on the floor. “Pastel!”

“Oh!" She looked up at me. "Er, yes, Dovetail?”

“Before you head out, I need to give you a badge for you to identify yourself as a vendor at the artist alley. Are any of these yours?” I fished in my dress for the badges that hadn’t been claimed yet and held them out.

“Oh! Let me take a look.” She picked the one named Pastel Palette. “It’s this one. Thank you so much. I was wondering who I needed to pick it up from.”

“Sure, no problem.”

…Wait. Pastel Palette? That sounded familiar…

“Sweetie Belle, posthaste!” said Rarity urgently. “You must get changed before your big moment!”

“Ah, shoot, sorry!” I ran back to Miss Coco and Rarity and waved goodbye to Pastel. “I’ll see you in the vendor hall!” She giggled and gave me a small wave back.

We made our way to an antechamber behind the stage, where I found Prosperity and Button hunched over a table, poring over several scrolls. Button noticed me out of the corner of his eye. “Sweetie Belle!”

“Hey Button, hello Prosperity,” I said, approaching. “What’s the plan?”

“Dovetail? Excellent.” Her eyes flicked to me only for a moment, still jotting something down on the scroll. “We will need you on stage very soon to provide a welcoming statement to everyone. Do you think you’re ready?”

“Almost.” I nodded with a glance at my tailers. “I have to change first. My sister just got here with my dress for tonight.”

“Your… sister?” She finally glanced up at us. “Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry, where are my manners? You must be Lady Rarity—” she gave a practiced bow of her head, breaking eye contact only to scan our group in full “—and entourage. It is truly an honor.”

Likely not expecting the courtly gesture, Rarity hesitated only for a split second before returning the bow with her own, though not quite as low as Prosperity’s had been. She swept a hoof towards the others, each giving their own slight bow. “Miss Coco Pommel. And truly, ours is the honor, Miss Prosperity. My sister has spoken ever so highly of you, and it is wonderful to finally put a face to a name of such high regard.”

“Has she? I’m flattered,” she replied with a simple smile towards me. “And please, Prosperity will be fine.” She glanced around. “Though I must apologize. Things are a bit hectic at the moment, and I do dearly wish we could have met under better conditions.”

“Oh, that’s certainly no fault of yours! Forgive me for imposing upon your duties,” Rarity said beatifically, putting her hoof on my shoulder. “I’m only here to deliver my sister’s evening ensemble, and I have another obligation to attend to this evening, so worry not! I shan’t be in your mane but for a few moments longer.”

“Ah, understood!” she said. “Is it a complex ensemble? Will you need help getting into it?”

“That would be me,” said Miss Coco, striding forward. “Is it alright if we take up this dressing room?”

“Certainly!” she replied. “Dovetail, Button and I should have your script ready for you when you’re done. It’s not terribly long or complicated, just a few announcements for how the evening will go.”

“Got it.”

“And I should soon be on my way,” said Rarity, checking her watch. “Once again, it was a pleasure, Miss Prosperity.”

“Of course, don’t let me keep you, Lady Rarity.”

Rarity turned to me and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Good luck, Sweetie Belle. I’ll try to stay for your opening speech before heading out.”

“Thanks, Rarity.” I returned the kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

I turned to follow Miss Coco into the dressing room.

This was gonna be a very busy night, wasn’t it?

S I L V E R S P O O N

Was this how you handled one simple weekend away from home? With petty dramatics?

Don’t be a fool. You’re better than that. You’re above that.

So your vacation from everything you knew wasn’t a spectacular adventure filled with mirth and joy. Big deal. You’re a big girl. You can handle a day or two of miserable loneliness.

Just because you’re bored for a few hours doesn’t mean that happiness is fleeting, an aberration in an existence overflowing with vapid superficiality.

Just because you’re frustrated with a friend doesn’t mean that the friendship is a lie, a façade built merely to provide an illusion of social gratification.

Just because you’ve caught a glimpse into a meaningless life doesn’t mean that the foundations for everything you know are predicated on specific conditions that could give way at the slightest disturbance, a house of cards that would scatter with naught but an errant gust of wind.

Of course not. What an insipid train of thought.

You’ve created a place for yourself in the world. You’ve designed a routine that provides structure to your reality. You have marketable skills that can be employed for tangible benefits. You have passions that fill your life with sound and color. You have diversions from which you derive a constant supply of leisure.

You have a family that loves you, a business that needs you, a best friend that values you, and rivals that cower before you.

You have purpose. You have meaning. You have a future. You have a life.

So what in Sun’s name are you crying over, you stupid little girl?

Why are you crying?

You’re going to ruin your makeup.

You’re going to embarrass yourself.

Stop being an idiot.

You’re better than that.

You’re better than all of this.

If anything, this should be a learning experience. You know what makes you miserable. You know how thin the barrier is between a meaningful life and a wasteful one. You know how dangerously close you’ve come to plummeting through that barrier.

So reinforce the barrier. Address your weaknesses. Cover up those flaws.

Find meaning. If you lose sight of it, pursue it. If it’s out of reach, grasp it. Don’t let it go. Don’t let it leave you behind.

Find what makes you happy.

What makes you happy, Silver Spoon?

What makes you happy?

S W E E T I E B E L L E

Was this what it felt like to be truly happy?

I dunno.

I mean, it’s not like I was one of those Yakistani mountain monks or anything. And hay, as enlightened as they probably were, I doubted even they knew true happiness.

But this? This was pretty friggin’ close.

Now changed into my dress—and Rarity had been right, it was a jaw-dropping marvel of tailoring design mastery—I tightly grasped a scroll in my hooves. It was a short outline of opening statements to introduce everyone to our event. I had only read it once, and though I felt the ever so slight pangs of nervousness, somehow the usual fear that usually came with the prospect of delivering a barely-memorized script to a teeming crowd of unknowns didn’t have the suffocating weight I expected it to.

Instead, I felt free. Freer than I had in years.

Peering from my place behind the backstage curtain, all I could see were ponies. Ponies just like me. Everywhere.

It was a wholly unfamiliar sight, and yet it came with a sense of home and safety.

For such a huge chunk of my life, I hid this thing about myself that brought me so much joy and friendship, out of fear that ponies would judge me for it. And, you know what? They did. Some of them did, at least. Sometimes even the ones that mattered to me the most.

But a lot also accepted it. They embraced it, even if it didn’t make much sense to them. They embraced me, despite my belief that nopony would understand.

Mare. How could I think like that? Looking back, that was kind of egotistical. ‘Nopony would understand’? Like, seriously? Might as well shut myself in my room and listen to Linking Parkas all day.

…Er, well, no offense to anypony who liked Linking Parkas. They had a cool sound, even if their lyrics were kinda whiny.

Heh, actually I think the DJ was mixing that up with Smash Muzzle right now. How did that even—? You know, I wasn’t even gonna question it. The crowd loved it. No one gave a shit.

…That was the thing that was really special about all of this, wasn’t it? No one gave a shit. We were all cramped into an over-decorated ballroom at one of the most friggin’ expensive hotels in Manehattan, playing video games and not caring what anypony else had to say about it.

Sun and Stars, I wished everypony was here. Cheerilee. My parents. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. I wish they could see that this was what it was really like. That it wasn’t just me, curled up in the dark by myself, wasting away in front of a screen. It was me and hundreds of people from around the world, many that I could easily see myself counting among my friends someday, all of us just running around and laughing and loving and living and dying and coming back to life just so we could do it all over again.

I was surrounded by people just like me. We were all here, we were all real, and we were all going to have the time of our lives.

Prosperity approached, ready to board the stage at my side. She bore a smile, one that fought at the corners of her cheeks, barely restrained. “Ready?”

My lips curled. “Ready.”

Nothing could ruin this. Nothing.

Author's Note

2022 EDIT:

Happy Four Year Anniversary, TGOM.

Thanks to Zaid ValRoa, fourths, Autumn Rush, and Carabas for editing.

C L I C K H E R E T O
J O I N M Y C H A T R O O M !

|♫| ᴠɪɪɪ. The Hope

Author's Note

I dunno who's still reading or keeping tabs on updates. But in the stir-crazy quiet of quarantine, I just had this overwhelming need to create something, so I bashed out this out in a single day. Don't know if that spark of inspiration is gonna last, but we'll see.

Gotta say, when I first published this story six years ago, I don't think I ever envisioned myself resurrecting it in the middle of a worldwide pandemic and national race riots, but here we are.

It's been a long fucking time since 2014, hasn't it.

Before we start, some significant changes to the story that'll affect some stuff in previous chapters.

First: Player characters in Eternity are no longer called "Guardians". They're now called "Crusaders".

Second: I've changed the name of the guild. It's no longer the Regal Six.

Third: I've retconned it so that, by this point in the past-timeline, Sweetie Belle hasn't created the guild yet. This change has only affected one scene at the end of Fragment 13, after they've just defeated Drakkaris. I've rewritten the scene to reflect that, and wrote a new conversation to take its place. Check it out HERE.

For more on why I made these changes, check out this comment.

|♫| ᴠɪɪɪ. The Hope

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

Contrary to our jubilant celebrations at the defeat of Drakkaris, the ride back to the House of Kings was rather subdued.

The incessant yammering of my two traveling companions had finally come to a blissful stop. Dovetail had situated herself at our new ship’s controls, seemingly focused on learning how to manually pilot the sizeable ketch… despite the autopilot functioning perfectly well. Freya was silently perusing some of the machinery throughout the bridge.

Honestly, I was glad to enjoy some manner of respite. It was a nice opportunity, too, to sit down and maintain my new weapon. I had noticed earlier that its metal bearings were caked in a thick layer of rust, making the bolt action somewhat tough to operate.

The gryphon, apparently, had noticed too, and spared me a curt rundown of basic weapon maintenance before returning to her uncharacteristically sober study of the ship.

So it was that No Land Beyond lay disassembled on an empty tabletop in the bridge. And as I stood there, oiling and scrubbing away at what looked like centuries’ worth of rust buildup, I couldn’t help the rogue thought that entered my mind, a thought like so many others before it:

Why in sun’s name was I cleaning a fake gryphon rifle in a video game?

Then came another question, unlike the others before it:

Why didn’t I seem to want to stop?

“You know, I’m pretty surprised,” came the gryphon’s voice, interrupting my silent musing.

I glanced up at her, and noticed Dovetail turn her eyes from the controls to do the same. “Surprised? At what?”

She gestured widely with her claws. “At this. All of this. Everything.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I, uh, don’t get your meaning.”

She pointed at an onboard computer, its displays flickering with strange symbols in another language. “All of that text on that screen is in runic Gryphosi.”

“And?”

“And in real life, we stopped writing in runic centuries ago. I only barely studied it in history books growing up, and nowadays I only see it on super-old monuments or religious shit. Everyone speaks and writes in modern Equish now, and has spoken it for centuries.”

“O…kay?” I glanced at Dovetail, figuring she might know what in stars’ name this oversized bird was on about. She shrugged helplessly at me.

So much for that.

“So are you saying this game is inaccurate to real life?” I ventured.

“Er. Sort of?” She furrowed her brow, clearly struggling to express her intent.

“Oof, sorry about that,” Dovetail said apologetically, as if she were somehow responsible for this lapse. “I guess the developers didn’t really do all of their research if they got a major detail about your culture like that wrong.”

“Well, it was made by ponies,” I pointed out. “They couldn’t get everything about Gryphosi culture right.”

“Okay, but something about that sentence doesn’t sit right with me,” she said. “It’s not ‘Gryphosi culture’ that we speak Equish. That’s just Equestrian culture imposed onto Gryphos.”

Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what your educational propaganda taught you as a child. That we imposed our culture on you.

“…So yeah, it is pretty unrealistic,” she confirmed. “But that’s the thing. It’s not bad unrealistic. In fact, it… feels kinda cool.”

“You’ve been playing this game for a while, yes?” I piped up.

“Yeah,” said the gryphon with a shrug. “A few months or so.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen, er, runic Gryphosi in gryphon-inspired zones?”

“No. It’s all over Highcrowne. Everywhere.”

Really.

“So why make this observation now?” I asked. “If there’s Gryphosi text everywhere, then—”

“Urgh.” She groaned, wiping a claw on her face. “Sorry. Never mind. I’m not being clear. Forget I said anything.”

“No, it’s okay Freya!” Dovetail turned around completely now, completely abandoning the ship wheel and snapping me a sharp look before trotting over to the gryphon. “You can talk to us. It’s our fault if we’re not understanding you, but we want to.”

Speak for yourself, Dove. I had no interest in this.

“Right. Okay.” Freya sighed. “To answer your question Shadow, yes, I’ve noticed for a while. And I’ve talked about it with my other friends who have noticed too, right? And we all agree. It’s weird.”

“But weird in a ‘cool’ way?” asked Dovetail.

“I guess… yeah.” She furrowed her brow again. “I’m saying this now, because— like, I just look around this massive ‘starship’ thing or whatever. We don’t have anything like this in real life, right? Hel, unless you Equestrians are hiding something under your gullets, no race or country on our plane has ships that can sail past the edge of the Seas Beyond, or into the Churning Void. Starships just aren’t real.”

“Right.”

“But even then, this impossible ship that doesn’t exist, this thing that was created purely by pony imagination and inspiration, still feels so… gryphon. I don’t know a damn thing about architecture or ship design or whatever, but I look around this, and it feels like the ketches I sailed on in Legionnaire basic training.”

She glanced around again. “It feels like my people, my country, actually did make a starship, and this is exactly what it would look like.”

“So… that’s a good thing, right?” asked Dovetail.

“Yeah. It’s cool. Like, really cool.” She glanced at the disassembled rifle lying at my hooves. “Almost like the ponies who made this game wanted not just to get our culture really right, but to celebrate it at the same time. To make it more Gryphosi than even real life.”

A want that I, admittedly, could not fathom. Didn’t ponies have any pride? Why go through all this work to ensure that gryphon culture was celebrated?

It seemed like a waste of time.

Except…

“But what makes that weird?” asked Dovetail.

“I guess… I’m just not used to ponies caring,” continued the gryphon, staring out the cockpit window at the passing ruins of Highcrowne below. “Every pony player I’ve played with in this game so far has been either really distant, straight-up rude, or attacked me on sight.”

“Which is understandable,” I said. “Our people have never gotten along.”

“Right, and Hel, my entire real-life job is to protect my people from ponies!” she exclaimed. “So why would a bunch of video game-making ponies waste all this time making sure they nailed our culture just right for gryphons like me?”

Suddenly, the answer occurred to me, and it was so obvious that I audibly snorted, causing both of them to turn to me.

“What’s so funny?” asked Dovetail.

How could I not have realized it before? I was a businessmare. It was my job to know the answer to questions like this.

“Don’t act so flattered,” I said to the gryphon. “It’s capitalism, plain and simple. Ponies only care insofar as they can make money off you. We don’t actually care about you.”

The gryphon’s eyes narrowed, but she did not respond.

“And it worked, didn’t it?” I continued. “However many rubles did you blow on a Hoofbox? On this game? It’s not cheap. But you did it. And all of the money that you earned in service to your homeland went straight into the coffers of those you aim to defend it from.”

I slowly trotted towards the gryphon, staring straight into her eyes all the while. “This is why we are the continent’s dominant superpower. This is why we’re the strongest race on the entire plane. This is why your entire country speaks Equish. You listen to our music, you eat our food, you play our video games, and you throw all of your money at us in the process. You might not be able to tell, but whatever war your people thinks might exist between us, we already won it.”

“Shut up, Shadow.”

Breaking our gaze, we both turned to Dovetail.

“Stop acting like you know everything about ponies,” she muttered. “Stop speaking for me.”

“I’m not speaking for you, Dove,” I sneered. “This is simply reality. You’re just one pony.”

“So are you,” she retorted. “Not everyone thinks like you. Not everyone hates gryphons and wants to take their money.”

“I’m not saying I hate gryphons.” Nor did I have any particular love of them either. “I’m saying that this is the way the world works.”

“Does it? Look around you.” She waved her arms. “Look at this ship. Look out the window. Look at your gun, and its lore, and the city, and everything! Why would ponies put this much work into the game if the only reason was for money? They probably had to do a ton of research to get it right. They had to care to do it. No one can work this hard and make it this good if they didn’t care.”

Pah. She had no idea. I was the heir to a metalworking empire. Did she think I gave a damn about metalworking, or mining, or refining, or anything like that? Hardly. But what I did give a damn about was each and every copper coin that flowed into my family’s vault because of it. It was the job of the ponies beneath me to care about the details.

Of course, I couldn’t tell her that. Not outright.

“There are certainly ponies who care, Dovetail,” I said. “But I guarantee you that the ones at the top, the ones who hired them, the ones who actually invest money so that the game can be made? They’re in it for the cold hard bits.”

“Maybe they are,” she said, “but why does it matter what they think?”

“I don’t know, what do you think matters more?” I challenged her. “The people who make it, or the people who pay to have it made in the first place?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you even need to ask? It’s the people who make it, obviously! They’re the ones expressing themselves in their work.”

“Ask any artist if they agree. If I commission a painting, it’s because I want it made to my exacting specifications. The artist is simply there to do their job, and I assure you they will tell you as much. They don’t have to care to make what I want.”

She snorted. “And why would you pick that artist?”

“Because they’re good at what they do, and their style matches my expectations.”

“Yeah, but do you think they achieved that style out of nowhere? They achieved it because they like it! Why else would they train themselves to do it?”

“Because it’s their damn job!”

“No, it’s because they give a crap!”

“Ladies, ladies!” the gryphon shouted. We both whirled on her, staring daggers. “Yikes. Okay. Look. As fun as it is to watch you two argue over me, we’re almost here.”

We glanced out the window and noticed that we were approaching a walled-off section of the ruined city that seemed to be in remarkably better condition than the rest. It was an admittedly majestic sight. Sky roads weaved between gleaming ivory towers, strands of ivy hundreds of feet long hung from massive trellises, and lines of colorful flags were drawn between the many spires.

Is this what Highcrowne looked like in real life?

“You are now entering the District of Kings!” exclaimed the gryphon, taking on the affect of a jubilant tour guide as she strode to the ship’s wheel to assume control. “The last bastion of civilization in this Discord-blasted Helscape.”

Approaching from the fore was a gleaming tower. Taller than the rest, and not unlike the one in New Everfree, it was adorned with flags bearing many emblems. Most I didn’t recognize, but the one I did represented the Everfree Crusaders, the in-game paramilitary organization to which Dovetail, I, and all other pony players were members, according to the game’s storyline.

To know they had a presence among the gryphons was… an interesting discovery, to say the least.

But it made sense. As was quickly growing more and more evident, there were overt themes of friendly pony-gryphon relations scattered throughout the game, and this was no exception.

It did lend credence to Sweetie Belle’s insistence that the creators of this game did, in fact, care about gryphons and their culture.

An idealistic perspective, if there ever was one.

With a soft thump, the ship slowly touched down at the tower’s hangar.

“Please secure all horse limbs as you exit the vehicle. And whatever you do, do not point at any passing gryphons without consent.” She turned to wink at us. “We do, in fact, bite.”

Dovetail wrenched the docking bay lever down, and we watched as it began to lower.

“Miss Freya?” said Dove.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about earlier. I promise we’re not all like Mister Shadow.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I grumbled.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” said Freya, ignoring me completely. “He might be an asshole when he opens his mouth, but I didn’t forget that he’s the one who talked us down from attacking each other in the first place.” She gave me a meaningful glance. “That’s gotta mean something, right?”

I had honestly forgotten about that.

“Also, if he causes trouble here, there’s more of us then there are of him, so I’m not too worried.” She winked.

Noted.

The docking ramp hit the deck with a large thump, and we trotted outside and out of the hangar bay.

The plaza we emerged in was bustling with activity. Everywhere, gryphons were trotting—er, clawing?—about their business. Trading with merchants, meeting up with allies and friends, watching local Crucible matches on large electric viewscreens scattered about… Save for everything being constructed in either marble or alabaster-white concrete, this place wasn’t all that unlike the Tower in New Everfree.

It was, admittedly, not unwelcoming. And I found myself wondering at the various similarities between gryphon and pegasus architecture.

Dovetail certainly seemed enamored by it, her eyes glancing around with a frantic sort of excitement as she took in the sights.

She wasn’t the only one staring. A good number of passers-by had their eyes turned to us. Likely because we were effectively the only ponies around.

“Look at the size of that ship!”

“Insane. Does that belong to those pony players?”

“I didn’t know anyone could get a ketch like that!”

...Or it was because of our ship.

“‘Ey, Freya, what the Hel!” came a shout.

We turned and spotted a pair of gryphons ambling up to Freya. One of them threw his arm around her neck in an overly familiar sort of way. “Is that massive ship yours?”

“Yeah, it is,” she said, shoving his arm off her shoulder.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Sick! When did you score a ketch?”

“When we defeated Drakkaris.”

“No way. You did?”

“Yep. With the help of these lovely horses here.” She spread her talons at us.

“Hah! Why am I not surprised.” He turned to us. “This one’s always been a pony lover.”

“Really?” Dovetail said in surprise.

“We had no idea,” I grumbled.

“Shut up, Harald,” she said, punching him in the shoulder. He only laughed in response.

“Yeah, she’s a weirdo alright. But hey, any pony friend of hers is a pony friend of mine. Welcome to the Tower of Kings.”

“This is my idiot friend Harald,” she said. “And his friend Erik. They’re part of my contubernium in the Legion.”

The third gryphon only grunted in response, giving me a good glower in the process.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Harald and Mister Erik!” said Dovetail. “I’m Dovetail, and this is Shadow Song. We only just met Miss Freya outside of the city. She helped us find and defeat Drakkaris.”

“Yeah, she’s been looking for Autumn’s Lair for weeks now. We didn’t think she’d ever find it.”

“I don’t know why she didn’t just drop these two and invite us instead,” muttered Erik.

“Because they actually had information,” said Freya. “We wouldn’t have found it if we hadn’t combined our knowledge together.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t seem to like that answer.

“Look, it’s fair, Erik,” he said. “They knew stuff, we didn’t. Don’t be like that.”

“Mmph.”

“Don’t mind him,” said Harald. “He’s a bit of a sourpuss.”

“That’s okay, we’ve got our own too,” said Dovetail.

“I’m still right here, you know,” I muttered again, growing annoyed by their candor.

“Anyways!” said Freya, waving us forward. “We should go report to the High Crown. This way!”

“Right!” Dovetail turned to the other two gryphons and gave them a quick curtsey. “It was nice meeting you, Mister Harald and Mister Erik.”

“Likewise, little lady!” said Harald cheerfully.

Erik grunted again.

As we trotted off, I heard their passing remarks.

“She seems cute and fun!”

“I don’t trust them.”

“No surprise there, buddy.”

“Likewise.”

We trotted up to keep up with Freya as she made wide strides across the courtyard.

“Your friends seem nice,” said Dovetail.

“That’s a word, sure,” grunted Freya.

“You don’t agree,” I ventured.

“Erik is a grumpy asshole,” said Freya. “And Harald is nice enough, but he won’t lay off the flirting. He hits on me and any woman he meets in this damn game. And in real life.”

“He didn’t hit on me,” said Dovetail.

“You’re a pony,” I said.

“And also eleven,” added Freya.

“Thirteen!” she pouted.

“Same thing!”

As the two continued their bickering, I kept my eyes forward. Many of the gryphons passing by were assessing us with either great interest or great suspicion.

“Are those Equestrians?”

“What are they doing here?”

“I wonder how far they came to get here.”

“Didn't even know they could enter our capital...”

My thoughts on Gryphosi architecture aside, my dislike of this place was palpable.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I said over the loudness of my two companions, trotting forward with urgency.

They spared not another moment’s glance before rushing to catch up with me.

“And you claim to have slain Drakkaris of House Autumn?”

“Yes, Kell of Kings,” said Freya, bowing to the Kell and his collective Council, all perched on a raised half-circle platform above us. I rolled my eyes. “But I wasn’t by myself. These ponies came along for the ride, and their help was massively, er, helpful in finding Autumn’s Lair. We all got trophies to prove we beat ‘em once and for all.”

She brandished her cloak. Dovetail lifted the Kell of Autumn’s dented helmet. They both side-eyed me, clearly expecting me to present my rifle.

With a beleaguered sigh, I did so.

“We also nabbed the flagship of House Autumn. With the biggest ship in their fleet now in our claws, they’ll be much less of a threat to us and the rest of the world.”

“Interesting.” The Kell turned to us. “The history of our peoples has been marred by conflict. Even as we raise the flag of your Everfree Crusaders above our holdings, our relationship remains tense, our talks strained. Tell me, little one: what cause would ponies have to intervene in the affairs of the gryphons?”

“In this, we did not act as mere ponies,” Dovetail replied. “We acted as Crusaders of the Last City. House Autumn, under the influence of Chaos, was a threat to everyone, gryphon and pony alike. Our cause is to protect and unite all peoples in our broken world and stand against the threat of Chaos. If gryphons are to restore Highcrowne and rule once more, we would hope that said gryphons would be ones we could call friends.”

Even in this minor interaction with a console program, Sweetie Belle surprised me with her wordcraft, as she tended to on occasion. I was almost convinced she was a real lady.

Perhaps she could be an actor, someday.

“And yet there are ponies who choose to ‘befriend’ the Forlorn and work against us, nipping at our walls with their ghastly magics and undermining our control of the city. Do you speak for them as well, child?”

“You refer to the Changeling Hive. Like your Forlorn, those magic-stealing shapeshifters are addled by Chaos and are no longer of our people. All of us have suffered at the hands of Discord.”

“I see.” The Kell furrowed his brow. “Our people favor loyalty and honor above all else. We have not known these things from our past dealings with ponies. But if you insist that your people are vested in sharing your vaunted ‘friendship’, then perhaps… perhaps... this moment may mark a new era of cooperation between our resurgent nations.”

Blech. This game was certainly preachy.

“The assistance that you, little one, have rendered to the House of Kings cannot be understated. This is a momentous achievement and a crowning moment in the history of our campaign to reclaim our homeland.”

He turned back to Freya. “For your long-standing efforts in the struggle against the House of Autumn, Legionnaire Freya, we shall recommend to the Highcrowne Crusaders the immediate conferral upon you the rank of Centurion.”

“Ey, cool!” she said. “Way higher rank than I’ll ever be in real-life. Does it pay well?”

“It does not pay at all,” said the Kell of Kings, before turning to us. “Crusaders of the Last City, unfortunately I do not have the authority to do the same for you. But we will relay our recommendation to your chapter’s vanguard of an immediate promotion to Captain. Let it be known to your leaders that, on this day, you have done all gryphonkind an immense service that cannot be repaid.”

“Thank you, Kell of Kings,” said Dovetail. “We are honored to have served your people, and are grateful for your favor.”

“Additionally, the trophies that you three have earned are yours to keep. They may be of ancient gryphon origin, but I believe they will do much more good in the claws of heroes such as yourselves. Bear them well, and bring forth justice and vengeance upon our mutual enemies.”

Good. I would have been rather miffed if they were to claim ownership of my spoils from this long-winded adventure.

“Does that include the ship?” asked Freya.

“It does,” said the Kell.

“Nice!” exclaimed Freya, turning to Dovetail. “Looks like that ship is ours after all!”

“Ah, but you are not authorized to pilot it unless it’s on behalf of a guild.”

Wait, what?

“Explain,” I said.

“The ship you own is not a personal vessel; it is a frigate-class intercontinental starship, of which there are only a few in existence. For the good of our healing nation, all frigate-class ships must legally be leased to our armed forces for use in the defense of our nation.”

“Wait, what?” asked Freya. “You just said we could keep the ship!”

“The ship is yours, you just can’t use it,” the Kell clarified. “To put it bluntly: we need it more. But we will pay you to let us use it.”

“Wow, that’s lame,” grumbled Freya. “I mean, it’s free money, but still, I’d rather have the ship.”

“Yeah,” said Dovetail morosely. “It’s probably some kind of gameplay balance thing.”

But wait. “Kell of Kings, what do you mean, ‘on behalf of a guild’?”

“That’s the exception to this rule, Captain,” the Kell explained. “If you can field a force large enough to put the ship to good use, you have full authorization to use it. That you can do with a guild.”

“And what’s a guild?” asked Dovetail.

“I’m surprised you don’t know already, little one,” said the Kell with a chuckle. “Any Crusader with an officer rank is authorized to found a guild, an independent faction of Crusaders functioning as a single unit and accomplishing shared goals.”

“So not an army, then?” asked Freya.

“No, Centurion. Armies are beholden to their nations and are exclusively for waging war and national defense. I command armies. I don’t command guilds.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” said Dovetail. “As Crusaders, we command guilds? And they aren’t under your control?”

“Or the control of any other nation, yes. A guild has complete autonomy over its own organizational structure and objectives. Recruitment is the guild’s responsibility, but limitations are at the guild’s behest.”

“Okay, so we can recruit anyone we want,” said Dovetail. “But to do what? What’s the point?”

“That’s up to you, little one. Guilds are mercenary by nature. You could have a typical adventuring guild seeking to confront the greatest challenges this world has to offer. Or a merchant, craftsmen, or artists’ guild focused on economic prosperity. Or, really, any combination of the above and beyond. The guild can have many objectives, or none at all. It could be a band of friends seeking kindred spirits. A sanctuary for wayward wills and broken souls. A group of people with shared values, hoping to uphold and project them upon the world. A guild merely provides the formal infrastructure to facilitate any form of cooperation you desire.”

We turned to each other, eyebrows raised. What was this all about, really?

“If you are uncertain, let me say this.” The Kell stood up, descended from his raised platform, and approached us. “Against all odds, you have come together to accomplish a great feat. By my appraisal, your victory today has demonstrated that together, you are capable of great things. Imagine what you could accomplish with a greater force at your sole command.”

He stopped before us, closer to Dovetail than anyone else. “One among you most certainly has the potential for leadership, the capacity to overcome all racial and cultural boundaries in the pursuit of a greater goal. There is something to be said of that pluralism that I cannot help but find inspiring. It is something that this broken world desperately needs.”

He held out a talon. Clutched within was a scroll.

“This is a guild charter, marked with a seal symbolizing my personal endorsement. Everything you need to form a guild is within its pages. Do so, and it will carry the blessing of the House of Kings.”

“...Thank you, Kell of Kings.” Dovetail accepted the scroll. “I will think on this.”

“Do so.” He ambled back to his throne and sat down. “I expect to hear great things of you and your friends, little Crusader. I hope you will not disappoint.”

Well. That entire exchange certainly carried the theatrics that were so pervasive throughout the rest of this game. I was starting to recognize how easily the others had become enamored by this… fantasy. It was thorough. It was bright. It was captivating.

And, in the way a flea might be captivated by a blue flame, it was all so terribly wasteful. Dovetail was utterly mesmerized by this fiction, effectively rendered useless to the world by the unrelenting chokehold this game seemed to have on weaker wills.

It was a trap, a gaping maw that swallowed ponies whole. And it was almost terrifying in its effectiveness.

Even now, as we walked the market plaza of the Tower of Kings, she stared quietly at the scroll the Kell had handed to her. Like it was some object of great import that might command her destiny, rather than a mere illusion conjured up by magic and machine.

“Hey! Dovetail!!”

We looked up in the direction of the shout and saw the oddest sight: two gryphons and two ponies, one normal-sized and one massive, running straight towards us. I dropped in a defensive stance immediately.

“Button!” shouted Dovetail, running up to the smaller pony and throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re home from school!”

“Good to see ya, Dovetail,” the stallion that was Button Mash replied easily. His character certainly did match his real-life counterpart… in its coloring. Unlike real life, he was laden with rugged armor, quite tall and—dare I say—devilishly handsome.

How amusing it was to see his ideal projection of himself in this world.

Harald, Erik, and the massive mystery horse came to a stop right beside them. “Hey girls!” said “And guy.”

“Hey boys,” Freya said. “What brings you here?”

“We ran into your friends. They were looking for you.”

“They’re not my friends, they’re hers.” I pointed at Dovetail.

“Yeah,” said Dovetail, releasing Button. “How’d you know?”

“Because horse,” said Harald, nonplussed. “Duh?”

“Oh, fair.”

“I like this guy.” said the gigantic stallion, grinning. This must have been the Sadul-Arabian. “Dry? Sarcastic? A man after my own heart, truly.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Harald. “A man of culture, I see. We shall be fast friends!”

“Oh stars, it’s starting,” said Dovetail, giggling. “Anyways, sorry. Let me do the introductions. Everyone, this is my classmate Button Mash and my Crucible partner Mister Zaid al-Val’ora.”

“‘Sup!” said Button in his ghastly shrill voice.

“Hello,” said the stallion named Zaid, a slight accent to his speech. “Nice town you’ve got here. Lots of white. Very very tall. Did I mention I hate heights? Yeah, that’s a thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “And Mister Zaid, Button, this is Mister Shadow Song and Miss Freya.”

“Stormtalon,” she finished. “And just Freya is fine. We met while she was crawling around the ruins looking for Autumn’s Lair.”

“And I met—“ I started.

“Oh, don’t worry, we know who you are,” said Button. “She tells us stories about that Crucible jerk who can’t stop picking fights with her.”

“Button!” She clapped a hoof over his mouth. “That was a long time ago.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m sure.”

“If waf only laft week!!” he said, his voice muffled.

“How’d you guys know how to get here through all the fog anyways?” asked Dovetail, quickly changing the subject.

“New feature!” said Button, holding up his hoof. A holographic display appeared, showing what appeared to be a list of names and locations. “You can autopilot the ship directly to a friend’s nav signature now, as long as they’re in a safe area. Figured we’d surprise you!”

“Yeah, though our ship nearly got blown to bits along the way,” said Zaid. “Speaking of which, you owe my hull a good scrubbing.”

Dovetail stomped a hoof. “Do I look like I’m made for manual labor?”

“I’m sure a filly of your size will get it done in, like, what, a month tops? Better get started!”

“Zaaaid!”

As they teased each other, Harald turned to us. “So you guys were in the Kell’s Chambers for a while, huh? What happened in there?”

“The Kell said we were badasses and gave us all promotions,” said Freya, grinning.

“Sick!” He glanced at Dovetail, who still had the charter in one of her hooves. “What’s that?”

“A guild charter,” I said. “The Kell of Kings gave it to us.”

“Oh whoa, really?” exclaimed Button. “Nice! You guys are making a guild? What’s the guild for? What is it called? Who’s—”

“Dude, relax” Freya interrupted. “We have no idea,”

“Quite,” I said in agreement. “We haven’t even decided if we want to make one or not.”

“And the charter says it needs at least five founding members to ratify,” said Dovetail, reading the charter. “Who would even join it?”

“I would,” said Freya without hesitation. “You two are good players. Even if one of you is a bit of an asshole.”

“Duly noted.” I looked around. “Anyone else?”

“Heck, I ain’t got much goin’ on,” said Harald. “Might as well. It’d be more fun to join a guild with people I know anyways.”

“You only know me,” said Freya.

“What? No way!” he exclaimed, aghast. Suddenly he threw his arm around Dovetail and began noogying her head. “C’mon, everyone knows that I’m great friends with… err, what’s your name, kid?”

“D-Dovetail!” she managed, squirming in his grasp.

“Yeah, Dovetail! She and I go way back. We’re practically brother and sister!” He stuck a tongue out at Freya, who only did the same in response.

“Bleh!” Dovetail finally managed to free herself from his grasp, rubbing her head. “Yeah. Brother and sister. Totally.” She looked at Erik. “Mister Erik?”

“You’d be lucky to have him,” he said. “He’s absolutely incredible in the Crucible. Top 100 of all players worldwide.”

He grunted. “The day I join a guild with ponies is the—“

“Cool!” said Button. “Dovetail and Zaid are top 100 on the Crucible leaderboards too, and I’m top 500. We could probably all kick flank if we team up together!!”

Erik instantly froze and stared at them. Dovetail scratched the back of her head nervously, and Zaid struck a gallant pose.

“…Mmph,” said Erik, finally.

“Great, you’re in!” said Freya. He scowled at her, but she didn’t notice as she turned to me, Button, Zaid, and Dovetail. “I noticed the Equestrians haven’t said anything?”

“Sadul-Arabian,” corrected Zaid. “You know, I barely know any of you guys, and any one of you could totally be a crazy axe murderer that would poison my food or stab me in the back in my sleep.” He shrugged. “So sure, why the heck not!”

“That’s the attitude!” exclaimed Harald. “By the way, Erik would do all of those things.”

Erik scowled again.

“As for me,” said Button. “I’m following Dovetail wherever she goes. So if she leads the guild, you know I’m there.”

We all turned to Dovetail, whose character was easily dwarfed by all of us. She instantly shrank back, making herself even smaller. “Wait, what? Me? Who said I was leading it?”

“Well, you are the one holding the charter…”

She stared at the scroll.

“I don’t know,” she said seriously. “Who would even want me as a leader?”

“I would,” said Freya. “I haven’t played with you for more than, like, five hours tops, but I can tell you’ve got a pretty good head on your shoulders.”

“Hm.” She looked up at Freya. “Why don’t you make it, Miss Freya?”

“Pfft! Me? No way.” Freya waved her hands dismissively. “I suck with people. Shit’s way too much work for me. I’d rather just take orders and shoot whatever people tell me to.”

“You’re not like that, Miss Freya,” said Dovetail. “You worked really hard to unearth everything you did about Autumn’s Lair. I did too”

“Yep, this Freya’s a big ol’ bookbird for sure,” said Harald with a chuckle.

“Sure, I’m smart and clever and figure things out,” said Freya. “I ain’t a dumb meathead. That still doesn’t make me leadership material.”

“Hm. Okay.” Dovetail turned to me. “What about—“

“No,” I declared immediately. “I have no interest in leading a player-run organization.” Although I knew for a fact that I would be insurmountably good at it, thanks to having enough real-world leadership experience to dwarf all else present. Combined.

But I had better uses for those skills. Like my actually-existent international mining corporation.

On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder with a certain glee how much more Sweetie Belle might enthrall herself to this non-existent world.

It’d be like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

But first I had to convince her that this was a good idea. First I had to get the train chugging.

“Dovetail, stop trying to pass the buck,” I finally said. “Whatever you may think of yourself, I personally believe you’d be the best fit for the job.”

“Why me?” she asked. “We’ve barely known each other.”

“The Kell did hand you the guild charter,” I explained. “If the game is half as smart as it appears to be, he didn’t do that without reason.” It certainly did seem to be rather… intuitive.

“Nah, it’s probably because she’s the party leader,” quipped Harald. “Story sequences tend to prioritize the party lead.”

Oh. Well then.

No, wait. I could work with this.

“And do you think that’s an accident that she was the party leader?” I insisted. “The game likely focuses on them as a matter of deterministic value. I’d wager that, in a group, whoever is responsible for inviting and commanding everyone else tends to be whoever is most likely to take initiative. And without her initiative, none of us would be here together right now.”

I turned to Dovetail. “But an organization doesn’t just need someone who takes initiative. It needs someone who cares. Not just for the game itself, but for the ponies who play it.”

I knew this for a fact. My mother always insisted that in order for our company to be successful, we had to concern ourselves with the health and prosperity of those who toiled away on our behalf. If we broke them, they’d be no more useful to us than a dull pickaxe.

There was immense value in convincing our underlings that we cared for their well-being.

“You cared enough for me to be concerned about my lackluster Crucible performance. You cared about my lack of gear. You cared enough about Freya’s contribution to keep her in our party, despite my clear displeasure.”

“Yeah, but…” She shuffled her hooves “That’s just two or three things.”

“Maybe so, but even without these things, your care is evident in the way you carry yourself. Your constant concern for others, your desire for everyone to get along even when they have absolutely no reason to, your formidable experience and frankly dizzying amount of knowledge… these are the qualities of a leader.”

I put a hoof on her shoulder and looked kindly down at her. Having a taller character that exuded authority certainly had its advantages.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Dovetail. Without question, you have all that it takes to be a leader. It can be no one else but you.”

Her character’s lightning-blue eyes stared into mine for a moment, then she looked down at the charter again.

“Here. Allow me.”

I snatched the charter from her hooves.

“Hey, wait a sec—“

“Who would like to have the honor of being the first to add their name to the charter?”

“Hah! I like your style,” said Freya. “Hand it here.” I gave her the scroll, and she put her talons upon it. “I’m with you, Dovetail.”

She immediately passed it to the next person in line. One by one, Dovetail quietly watched as each person in our motley little retinue took the charter and added their signature to it, with nary a moment’s pause. Even Erik the sourpuss did not hesitate.

And eventually, it made itself back around to me.

“Thank you,” I said to the uncomfortably-handsome-and-rugged Button, who grinned a devilish smile. I placed my hoof upon it, and with a quick flash of white, the name ‘Shadow Song’ immediately appeared alongside ‘Members’.

“There. Six members. More than enough to found the guild.”

I held it out to Dovetail. “There’s a space waiting for your name.”

She gingerly accepted it and began looking it over, but stopped short of doing anything else with it.

“Well? What’s wrong?”

“What do I call it?” she asked, looking up at us. “We need a name for the guild.”

There was a moment’s silence.

This certainly was a conundrum. Naming a corporation was easy; you could just name it after its industry and owner. But for a personal troupe like this, a name was a trickier thing. It needed to symbolize everything that the organization would stand for. It needed to inspire.

And I certainly would not appreciate a stupid name.

So then… what kind of name would best fit our nascent guild?

“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Button Mash quite suddenly. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders!”

Sun and stars, you have got to be kidding me.

“The Cutie what Crusaders?” asked Freya in abject confusion.

Harald chuckled. “That sounds adorable. Like a King’s Youth troop.”

“I have so many regrets,” said Erik, burying his face in his palm.

“NO!” said Dovetail, whirling on Button. “Are you crazy?! We are not calling it that.”

“Hey, it’s just if you couldn’t think of anything else!” he said defensively, holding up his hooves.

“Look, I’m sorry!” she said defiantly. “I’m not a creative pony, okay?! This is hard!”

I groaned. This wasn’t going anywhere. I had to refocus this conversation. Make them take it seriously.

“Dovetail,” I said, putting my hoof on her shoulder to draw her attention. ”Ignore them. Remember what the Kell of Kings said.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said that a guild was whatever you wanted it to be. What do you want it to be, Dovetail?”

“I…” she pondered that question for a moment. “Well, I want us to raid, and to go on adventures together, and—“

“No! No, that’s not what I mean.” What a fool girl. “The Kell said that a guild was a collective of shared values, upholding and projecting them upon the world. You are our leader, and so what you stand for is important and will command the culture of this guild. What values are important to you, Dovetail? What do you want your guild to represent?”

She blinked at me, the gears in her head clearly grinding against each other. Such a slow, uninspired filly.

“The Kell said a word earlier,” said Freya, suddenly. “‘Pluralism’. What the Hel does that mean?”

Either they didn’t teach philosophy in Gryphos, or she didn’t make it very far.

“It’s... a logic thing,” said Dovetail. “It argues that no one thing is necessarily true, and that many things can be correct at the same time.”

Oh, good. At least somepony here paid attention in class.

“That… seems kind of obvious?” asked Freya. “Like two different math problems with two different answers?”

Stars, I was surrounded by idiots. “Assume those math problems were the same, but the answers were different,” I said. “That’s pluralism. Multiple answers to the same problem.”

“Then that’s silly,” said Button. “A math problem can’t have two different answers.”

Then you never really made it far in math, either.

“This doesn’t apply to math. It applies to people. The emotions and experiences of living, breathing, thinking creatures like us is more complicated than a math problem.”

“Right,” agreed Dovetail, emboldened. “Two people can have two completely different perspectives on the same issue, and both can be valid. It’s saying that the open-minded should be willing to accept and embrace each other’s views, even if they don’t agree.”

“Okay, that makes more sense,” said Freya. “But what the heck does that mean to us? Why did he call us ‘pluralist’?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Erik, suddenly. “We’re a mixed racial group. Ponies and gryphons, working together? It’s absurd. Our countries have been enemies for far longer than any of us have been alive. There is no reason for us to be friends, no reason for us to work together, and no damn reason for us to even be standing here, talking with each other.”

“And yet,” mused Freya, “two ponies helped a gryphon bring down of one of gryphonkind’s greatest pains-in-the-ass.”

“At Dovetail’s insistence,” I finished.

“I think it says a lot,” added Freya, “that a pony is founding their guild in Highcrowne, using a charter plastered with the Kell of Kings’ seal of approval.”

“Quite,” I said, turning back to Dovetail, her eyes transfixed on me. “What does that mean to you, Dovetail? What do you think that means to others?”

She turned back to her charter and continued to quietly stare.

For Sun’s sake, could she be any more indecisive?!

Surely there was something, anything, that I knew about this confounding filly to jumpstart her dysfunctional imagination.

Think, think. What did she say in the streets of Highcrowne?

“At least this way I can get a tiny glimpse of what it’s like to not feel so helpless all the time.”

“Let me ask you this then,” I said. “What drives you here? What value are you attempting to draw from it? Why do you play this game?”

A moment’s silence.

“This game is my escape,” said Dovetail quietly.

She was still staring at the charter.

“All things considered, life isn’t super-hard for me. I live in a safe country, I sleep in a comfortable home, I have something to eat every day, and I have friends who care about me.”

Slowly, she began to pace.

“But I also have expectations. People want me to be all sorts of things, all the time. My parents want me to be successful. My sister wants me to be beautiful. My friends want me to be reliable. My teachers want me to be smart. Everyone expects so much of me, and I feel like I can’t make any mistakes. But when I do, when I fall short... it hurts. It hurts to see them so disappointed and angry at me. Like I’m not good enough for them. I never feel like I’m good enough for them.”

She stopped and looked up at everyone around her.

“And that’s why I come here. When I’m being bullied by my classmates, or when I’m not doing well in school, or when I’ve had another fight with my parents, or when I’m scared about my future. I come here. And here, I feel like I can do anything. I can be all of those things they want me to be, and more. I don’t just feel safe. I feel powerful, and accomplished, and surrounded by friends who trust me, rely on me, and will always fight by my side.”

She looked at her hooves again.

“It makes me feel like I do have what it takes. That I am good enough. And that even on days that I can’t be… it’s okay. I’m still me. I can keep trying. It gives me the strength to go out there and face the world again.”

Slowly, she unfurled the scroll.

“There are mean people in this game too. They doubt me. They harass me. They say I shouldn’t be here. Because I’m a kid? A girl? I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will. But here, I have the power to prove them wrong. And the things I feel when I play this game? I don’t want people like them to deny that experience to anyone else. Gryphon or pony, boy or girl.”

This time, with conviction, Dovetail began to write on the scroll.

“I don’t know why you all play this game. For fun, for friends, for adventure, or maybe to escape something scary in your life? I don’t know. But all of you deserve a chance to draw something meaningful from it. Everyone does. Just like I do.”

She lifted the charter in an outstretched hoof.

“This place is my sanctuary. And I want to share it with the world.”

The charter lit up in a brilliant flash of white that washed over us. It grew larger, sprouting a tall post and blossoming into a massive banner.

Upon the banner was the image of a dove, cradling a small flower within its wings.

And lining the top was a single word, emblazoned in brilliant purple:

SANCTUARY.

1. Fate of All Fools

Author's Note

Eight Years Later…
I wrote this story in 2014. It’s now 2022. Eight years is long enough that the me who wrote this feels like a completely different person. I moved to a new city, entered a happy relationship going on 5 years, got a cat, watched almost all of my closest fandom friends move on to achieve incredible heights in their own careers, and have even joined my first real gig in the animation industry as a producer.

I’ve learned a lot since then. About writing and narrative. About the video game industry. About feminism. About myself, and my own relationship with fandom. And about how all of these things intersect in myriad ways. I've learned enough that, if I could go back and write this differently, I would. Much differently.

Maybe I will someday.

As for what it is now? Well, with the benefit of being able to step back and read it as if it were written by a completely different person…

Chapter 1 isn’t great. Heck, it’s pretty bad. But I could tell I was starting to get the hang of things by Chapter 3, and (despite the errant cringe here and there) I was genuinely gripped by 4. I can honestly say I had fun reading it. A lot of fun. There’s still a LOT I would change and some stuff I even regret writing. But there were also some moments that surprised me, things I had completely forgotten about. (The tension between Equestria and the gryphons feels a bit prescient, given… current events.)

I don’t remember what it was like to write this, way back when. But I know that, had I written it today… I’d be pretty darn happy with most of it.

I wonder if you’ll think the same, readers of 2022. I hope you do.

Credits:
Edit: Many thanks to Sharp Quill for his helpful corrections and post-editing.

Personal Thoughts:
This is my first Fimfic story, so please bear with me as I smash my head repeatedly into my desk in an attempt to push some moderately decent horsewords out my nose.

While this is a Sweetie Belle-centric fic, ironically, the idea stemmed randomly from watching Jan's "Button Mash" shorts, in which Button seems to game very often with Sweetie Belle. It made me wonder what it'd be like if Sweetie Belle were actually better than Button Mash at video games, and I liked the idea so much I decided to put it on paper. Sweetie Belle--adoracute schoolfilly by daylight, badass gamer by moonlight. Whodathunkit?

As I was writing, it started to spiral into this messy, long-ish storyline that ended up becoming heavily influenced by some of my personal experiences growing up surrounded by video games, and the social impact that it's had on my life.

I'm pretty sure I'll royally mess this up and it'll all just sound like a bunch of dumb ponies making a big deal out of video games being a thing.

1. Fate of All Fools

“War upon stone and it grows weaker.
War upon mare and she grows stronger.
Which shall your wall be built of?”
—Mark of the Bulwarks

My classmates were staring.

They thought they were being sneaky, but it was easy to tell. I’d see them gawking from the corners of my eyes, or pick up hushed whispers on the edge of my hearing. Sometimes I’d look up and catch their gaze for a split second before they'd hurriedly look away, as if they'd seen something they shouldn't have. Even Diamond Tiara sat unusually silent.

Well, okay. All things considered, I probably looked barbaric. Not like I had any time to freshen up this morning, considering how late I had woken up.

But hey, if it was enough to shut Diamond Tiara up, maybe I could come to school like this more often.

...Horseapples. I was getting distracted again.

I looked back at my unfinished math homework, but my eyes began glazing over the unanswered problems as I struggled to block out the mutterings of my classmates.

Grrrr. If only my sister had helped me this morning...

Well, I guess I couldn’t resent Rarity too much. It wasn’t exactly her fault that I had forgotten to even do my homework. Plus, it's not like she had time to see me this morning, given the massive number of dress orders she'd been toiling over throughout the last few months or so.

As I was about to groan in frustration, another sound intruded upon my awareness—a series of familiar hoofsteps approaching my desk. There was an unusual, clipped hesitance to them, but even then I could recognize the sound of my best friend's almost bubbly gait from anywhere.

Finally. A welcome distraction.

Setting down my pencil, I mustered my best smile and turned to greet her.

“Hey Apple Bloom.”

“Gah!” She jumped—a little higher than usual, at that—and glared at me as she used a hoof to still the wobbling pink bow adorning her red mane. “Jeez, Sweetie. You know that freaks me out, right?”

“Well, sorry,” I said with a grin. “You have a funny-sounding trot.”

“Yeah, whatever Timberine,” she muttered, punching me lightly on the shoulder.

Ow. Some days I wondered if she remembered she was an earth pony.

As I rubbed my shoulder, I couldn’t help but notice some odd things about my friend—a crooked clip to her smile, a nervous tic in her eyes, the hairs on her yellow coat standing on end.

Something was off with her.

“Hey, is something up?” I prodded. “You seem a little… antsy.”

“Umm…”

I smirked, and leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “You finally gonna ask Button Mash out?”

“Ask— No!” she stammered, blanching. “I ain’t askin’ nopony out!”

Hah. She was so easy to tease sometimes. Her crush on our boyish schoolmate wasn't exactly news to me or Scootaloo, even if she refused to admit it. The truth was obvious after she begged for us to let him join the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

I mean, okay, it hurt just a little bit knowing that she didn’t trust us enough to reveal the truth, but I figured she was still trying to sort it out for herself.

Wouldn’t stop me from teasing her endlessly though.

“Besides,” she said, composing herself enough to speak straight, the blush never quite leaving her cheeks. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Well, yanno…”

“Something on my face?” That would explain all the staring. I plastered my hoof on my forehead and wiped quickly.

“Err— no, nothin’s on yer face,” she replied.

“You know, you don’t have to be that awestruck by my irresistibly good looks,” I said, sweeping my dashingly-luxurious locks for added panache.

She spared me a look so flat it'd get her kicked off the school choir.

“…Seriously, Sweetie?"

I giggled. But then I leaned in, lowering my voice to avoid anyone overhearing. “I know I look like crap today. I was up playing Eternity, and I ended up staying up late and oversleeping a bit.”

I didn’t mention my homework, or why it wasn't done—it was embarrassing enough bringing up my hobby again, even though she was one of the very few who knew about it.

“That’s great and all, I guess,“ she replied, wrinkling her brow in confusion, “but that ain’t what I’m talking about.“

As I opened my mouth to respond, I couldn't help but notice the approach of a familiar, brown-coated figure from behind the filly.

Ooh, this was gonna be good.

“Then what are you talking about?“ I asked in a disarming tone.

“Ain't it obvious? I'm—“

“WOAH! That’s awesome!” exclaimed the colt's nasally voice, right behind her. “Congrats, Sweetie!”

“EEP!” Apple Bloom nearly jumped out of her horseshoes as Button made his presence known. I hadn’t said anything, of course—the lovestruck filly’s reaction was totally worth it—but I didn’t have time to relish in her fright as I digested what Button had said.

“Wait, what’s awesome?” I asked as he pulled me into a tight hug.

“Your mark!” he exclaimed as if the entire world needed to hear about my nerdy late-night achievements. “You were awesome last night in Eternity, and if it scored you that for helping us net the World First kill, you totally deserve—”

“For Sun’s sake, not so loud!” I shouted, feeling my face heat up. “You know I don’t want everypony to know!"

Ugh! That colt and his loud mouth. What did Apple Bloom even see in him?!

Whatever. At least he’ll shut up once she finally spills the beans to her and the two get all smoochy.

“Besides,” I continued, “it’s an in-game item! Titan Marks are just little capes!”

“Er, I dunno what ya mean by ‘Titan Mark,’” said Apple Bloom in clear confusion, “but, uh, it’s kinda right there on yer flank…”

“Yep! Everyone can see!” grinned Button. “And it looks wicked.”

“Y-yeah, what Button said!” Apple Bloom managed a weak smile.

I facehoofed. Did she even know what she was talking about?

At this point, everyone in class was staring. I blushed, and turned to whisper to my friends.

“Apple Bloom, this is a video game, don’t worry about it. Button, you don’t even need me to tell you that Titan Marks aren’t real, it's not like you can actually wear them in real life—”

Suddenly, a certain pink filly in the corner decided that now was a fantastic time to break her silence… by dissolving into uproarious laughter.

“Ahahaha!” she guffawed, her punctuated laughing making her sound like a snobbier Pinkie Pie. “I never thought the day would come, but I’ve actually discovered something in life that is simply too rich, even for me!”

Great. Just fantastic. The whole class knew, and now Diamond Tiara was laughing at me so hard she was making dad jokes.

…Haha. Get it? Because her dad was literally rich, and she was making a joke about being rich, and wow I should stop now because that was awful and please never try to be a comedian, Sweetie.

“Oh my Stars!” She guffawed some more, her pointed hoof shaking so wildly it looked like she was having an aneurysm—if only the world were so kind. “The clueless dimwit is so completely in denial of her pathetic hobby that she won’t even admit she got a cutie mark for it!”

She dissolved into unending laughter once again. Ooh, mare was I gonna give that girl a piece of my mind—

Wait. Did she just say...? Surely she meant—

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise outside that, through many a year of crusading with my best friends, I had long come to associate with a certain pegasus.

“You what?!” yelled Scootaloo as her orange form barreled through the front door of the classroom behind Button, her scooter skidding across the hardwood floor and scattering a deluge of grass and leaves in its wake. “Did I hear you got your—HOLY HORSEAPPLES! YOU GOT YOUR CUTIE MARK!”

What. Sweetie Belle did not recognize that input. Please try again.

“Yeah, except she’s actin’ real weird about gettin’ it!” chirped Apple Bloom. “It’s like she’s pretending that she didn’t!” Diamond was still laughing.

WHAT. Sweetie Belle has stopped responding.

“Shut up, Diamond!” yelled Scootaloo, rounding on her. “Maybe she just didn’t notice she got it, or something!”

Diamond paused, stared at Scootaloo, then redoubled her laughter.

WHAT. No. Impossible. This had to be some kind of prank. Surely if I had gotten my cutie mark, I would have seen it while getting ready! Or Rarity would have said something…

…except you hadn’t even seen her this morning, you numbskull.

“Hey!” exclaimed Twist randomly in the corner, looking up from her desk suddenly. “Thith is a great example of cognitive dithonance!”

Huh? Sweetie Belle does not compute.

“Cognitive what?” asked Diamond. “What are you even blathering about now?”

“It’s on tomorrow’th teth! ’Cognitive dith… dissonance,’” she slowly enunciated through her lisp, grinning as she did so. “You”, she gestured at me with a hoof, “are uncomfortable becauthe new knowledge hath been introduthed that conflicth with what you already know. To avoid the dithcomfort, you either downplay ith importanth or reject it entirely out of denial. And right now, you’re rejecting it!”

Clearly satisfied with her psychoanalytical evaluation of my current predicament, she sat down, beaming like she was the most brilliant filly in the world. I stared at her, bewildered.

“That’s a fine example, Twist,” came a louder voice that took on a motherly, authoritative tone, “and I’d give you full marks, but I’m afraid that this is actually not on tomorrow's test, and you’re several chapters ahead as usual.”

Like the world’s most fascinating tennis match, every head turned, but this time to look at our fuschia-coated teacher, Miss Cheerilee, who had strode into the room. A few snickers broke out, but they were quickly silenced as Miss Cheerilee looked at me once again. I felt myself quail under her gaze.

“Really, honey, I know you may have gotten a cutie mark in something rather… er, unconventional,” she said as gently as she could, sounding all the world as if she were telling me that my sister had just died in a horrific accident, “but you should be proud. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

“Yeah, Sweetie! I mean, ya kinda beat us to it, but… ya got yer cutie mark!”

“It’s awesome! I want one just like it!”

“I mean, sure, it's super-obvious you're an egghead now, but at least you’re our egghead!”

I was once again engulfed in a hug by my three best friends.

“I…”

All of a sudden, words failed me. I had wanted this my entire life.

Apple Bloom noticed my hesitance. “What’s wrong?”

“Scootaloo’s right,” I admitted sheepishly. “I don’t remember getting it at all. I haven't even seen it yet.”

I noticed Diamond break into laughter again, but we ignored her completely.

“Seriously?” piped Apple Bloom, giving me an incredulous look as they released their hold. “So you don't even know what your cutie mark is? Or when you got it?”

I wracked my brain, trying to remember when it could have appeared.

Everything was chaos, and I was dashing through the thickest of it.

Explosions of fiery red and searing cobalt blossomed to life, threatening to embrace my small figure in their otherworldly flames. I sprinted with almost suicidal abandon through the hellish blaze that erupted from every corner, holding a shield before me to stave off the worst of the incoming damage. Errant strands of fire leaked around the glowing bulwark, bouncing off my armor and singeing my mane.

All around me were the dilapidated underground ruins of the Citadel of Infinity, vast platforms of shaped stone overgrown with flora from millennia of dormancy. I, Dovetail, a Crusader of the Last City in Equestria, had led five fellow Crusaders into the deepest, darkest chambers of the ancient complex, braving countless hordes of the cybernetically-modified dragons of the Hex Collective in order to uncover the relics and knowledge ensconced within since eons past.

Right now, that wasn’t going so well.

As the incoming fire let up, I momentarily glanced over my shield, and was met with the sight of a massive draconic machine-wyrm towering before me: Theralon, Time’s Conflux, the last obstacle between us and all the secrets of the Citadel.

For the moment, his focus was elsewhere. His wings groaned under its mechanical augmentations as purple beams lanced from the ancient weapons mounted upon them, impacting somewhere to the far left. I raised the revolver in my right hoof and aimed it at the hulking frame of the machine-wyrm. Three shots rang from my trusty Hawkmoon, impacting upon Theralon's side with metallic warbles.

“Dovetail, it worked! He’s turning to face you!” crackled a nasally voice over my communicator.

The white eyes of the axis lord turned to focus on me, his many angular metal scales readjusting his weapons as they acquired their new target. I had lured his attentions as I had planned, but I knew that if I stayed there any longer, I would be a dead Titan.

“You good now, Mash?!” I yelled into the comms. The monstrosity’s eye began glowing.

“Yeah, I’m good! He’s not firing on me anymore! Go help Freya, she’s pinned!”

Shots rang out in the distance. I glanced towards my right and could see a hail of fire peppering a low wall, behind which a gryphon lie crouched, frantically reloading her machine gun.

I swerved to dodge an incoming pulse of bright violet flame from the machine-wyrm and made my way to the beleaguered gryphon, leaping over the low wall. As I landed, I slammed my shield into the ground—a bubble of ethereal energy burst from the relic, sheltering us within its protective cover.

Now safe, we had a moment to breathe. I turned to ascertain the state of my fellow Crusader.

“Finally! What took ya, shorty?!” snarled the Bladedancer in strained relief as she slammed the hatch shut on her light machine gun. “Do you know how long it takes to load this fuckin' thing?!”

“Sorry, Freya!” I apologized, using the moment to load another fresh cylinder of rounds into my hand cannon. “I was trying to draw Theralon's fire from Mash. He’s safe now.”

“Yeah, well while you were off protecting our squishy little Gunslinger, a bunch of Hex spawned right behind me!” She glanced outside the sphere, beyond which a mass of mechanized whelps and drakes continued their advance on our position from a few dozen yards away. They peppered the shield with small arms fire. “I’d kinda like not to get bent over backwards after fighting this douchecanoe for the last hour.”

“Is anyone else nearby that can take the pressure off us?” I asked into the comms.

“Right here!” came a voice to the left. As we turned, two ponies slid through the bubble into position beside us.

“Zaid! Shadow Song!” I sighed in relief. “Mare, am I glad to see you. We could really use the help.”

“Yeah, uhh, about that, Dovey,” came the accented drawl of the beige horse, dropping to a squat to catch his breath, his shotgun clinking loudly against his armor as he slung it over his shoulder. Even at rest, the Saddle Arabian still stood several heads taller than me. “We, uh, kinda-sorta had a dozen or so Supplicants chasing us.”

I stared at Zaid. “What.” Over his shoulder, the red glare of the ethereal specters advanced towards our position.

“We already have to deal with these minions!” growled Freya, batting a wing at the encroaching legion.

“And we drew Theralon's fire!” I pointed a shaking hoof at the hulking monstrosity, who was battering our bubble with wave after wave of void energy.

“The Supplicants were gonna overwhelm us if we didn’t regroup with you,” said the other pony, a lithe stallion in flowing robes. The sniper rifle at his side looked spent.

“Here, Shadow.” I tossed him a pack of ammo. He smiled at me as he whisked it out of the air with a glowing white aura, slapping a fresh mag into his rifle.

“Well, all Hel is gonna descend on us in about a minute if we don’t figure something out,” said Freya in a low growl.

“We’re so close,” Zaid grumbled. “Feels like the hundredth time we’ve tried this fight today, and I’m gonna tear my mane out if we need to do it again.”

I was exhausted too. We’d been at this for hours, and this was the fourth day’s worth of attempts alone. But, despite millions of people around the world having attempted to breach the Citadel in the last week, no one had ever completely done this before, and we were mostly on our own in figuring out how to do so ourselves.

On the other hand, that meant that if we did manage this, we would be the first ones in the entire world to do so. And we'd made it super far into the fight. This was the very last phase. We just needed to go in for the killing blow... with a million other Hex soldiers on our tail.

“Well, Dovetail? What’s the plan?” asked Shadow.

Everyone turned to me, the team leader. As the one who had directed our efforts in this place thus far, I was expected to devise a solution. Suddenly, I felt very small—well, smaller than usual, at least. I sighed, then concentrated on the situation at hand, taking everything I could into account.

“Alright. Theralon's on his last legs, and my Fist of Havoc is powered up,” I said, holding a hoof up. It coursed with power, arcs of lightning bouncing off its surface. “If I can get close to him, we can end this once and for all.”

“Yeah, newsflash, his entire damned army is between us and him,” said Freya. “How are we gonna get that close if we’re surrounded by Hex?”

“That's where Zaid and Shadow come in. You two, handle the Supplicants.”

“Now that I’ve got ammo, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” said Shadow, readying his sniper rifle.

“Same,” added Zaid. “I’ll get in the middle, draw their attention, and catch their fire if I need to.”

“Great. Freya, I’m gonna need you to lay down some covering fire while I charge Theralon.”

“You got it,” she affirmed. Her talons wrapped around the action on her machine gun, pulling it back with a satisfying click-clack. The exotic weapon began coursing with lightning energy as it powered up. “Thunderlord can cull their numbers by a good chunk.”

Not all of them. I looked at the mass of whelps. “Mash, you still alive?”

“Alive and kickin'!” crackled Mash over the comms. “Nothing’s firing on me right now, so I'll be able to peg 'em from behind.”

“Good to hear.” There was one more card to play. “Stranger, you all clear?”

“Yes. I can lend my assistance,” intoned a mare over the comms. “I've dealt with the oracles that were casting their shield on Theralon. My Nova Bomb is ready, and I’m heading to you now.”

“Stranger!” exclaimed Shadow in relief. “We could really use your horn right now!”

The protective aura surrounding us flickered as it began to falter under the combined fire of our enemies.

“How long till you get here, Stranger?” I asked the mare. “My bubble’s gonna drop in about twenty seconds!”

“Expect me in ten.”

“Alright!” I replied, then turned back to my three teammates. “You all know what to do! We move in ten seconds! Everybody ready?”

“Hel yeah.”

“Ready.”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Okay.” I raised my shield and readied my revolver. “Let’s do this.”

We all turned to behold the mass of enemies converging on us.

Three.

We crouched into ready stances, preparing to pounce as soon as the bubble dropped.

Two.

I faced towards Theralon and his glowering eyes—my vision narrowed, and the rest of the world turned dark as I fixated on my sole target.

One.

Burning energy washed over us as the enemy fire finally overwhelmed the shield—it flared out of existence.

Now.

We leapt into action.

I sprinted forward, holding my shield before me and firing potshots with my Hawkmoon at anything that stood in my way. Freya’s Thunderlord began roaring as it poured electrified lead into the crowd, felling Hex left and right in spades—but there were still too many.

As I advanced, I bashed a few whelps out of my way with my shield. Behind me, I heard the Thunderlord click empty.

Uh-oh.

"Uhhh, Stranger, where are you?!" I yelled over the comms.

"I've been beset by Hex!" came her crackling reply, filled with gunfire and explosions. "My arrival will be delayed!"

Horseapples!

"Shove off, I'm comin' down there!" came a shout behind me.

I rolled to the left just in time to hear a burst of crackling electricity speed past me. Standing up, I caught Freya's manic grin as she surged forward, claws outstretched, her entire body lit by a pulsating aura of pure white energy.

The Vex barely stood a chance as she leapt from whelp to drake, tearing apart their energy shields and ripping them to shreds with her electrified talons. I stood up and began sprinting again, making a beeline towards my friend as more whelps converged on her. She spread her wings, which coursed with energy, then beat them powerfully—a shockwave of electricity exploded from her form, sweeping across the surrounding whelps and shattering them en masse.

I leapt over the shockwave, letting it pass under me, and soared cleanly over the gryphon warrior, landing on the other side.

"Thanks for the clear!" I yelled, then continued making my way forward. Though Freya had significantly dented the enemy numbers, there was still a veritable sea of enemies before us. The roar of the Thunderlord began anew as we continued to plow through the enemy phalanx.

"I'm here!" yelled a voice above.

I looked up. A tall slender unicorn appeared on the edge of my vision, floating like an ethereal angel above the battlefield, a churning sphere of darkness growing between her forehooves. The Warlock nodded once at me before turning to the crowd of Hex, unleashing her wrath upon them—the orb of energy soared towards the legion and impacted amid their ranks, blasting them to oblivion and washing the battlefield in darkness.

As I sprinted forward, I was engulfed in the churning cloud produced by my friend’s attack. Theralon was just on the other side. Readying my shield and bracing myself, I burst from the miasma, beholding the glowing eye before me.

But it wasn’t Theralon's.

Somehow, a Harpy had interposed itself between me and my target—the triangular mechanical amalgam of bronze armor plating floated before me, its bulbous red eye charging up to set me aflame. I prepared to raise my Hawkmoon, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Out of nowhere, a barrage of bullets impacted several points on the Harpy's fins—it made a crowing noise, then angrily turned its focus to our left, where a brown colt was charging from some ways away.

"I got this!" yelled Mash as he peppered the aggravated Harpy with sustained bursts of automatic fire. "Get moving!"

Button, I could kiss you.

I turned back to face my target. Theralon, the Conflux of Time, towered over me some thirty meters away, his entire body lit with an angry white glare. The air around me heated with the energy of his weapons as they began to charge.

I emptied the last few rounds of the Hawkmoon into his chest, then, with a thrust from the liftpacks on my legs, leapt into the air above him. I cast away the shield and revolver and looked down at my target—his eye beheld me as I ascended before him, lasers locking onto every exposed vital point on my figure as the machine-wyrm prepared to roast me alive.

I drew every ounce of magic from my body as I could, forcing the energy into my hooves. They crackled with otherworldly earthen magic as I held them before me.

This ended now.

Every weapon on Theralon’s body erupted as they unleashed their Helfire upon me—I descended upon him, my hooves slamming into his metallic form.

I screamed.

And all went white.

The room was dark. One bright flickering light shone, illuminating a small den filled with game boxes, massive posters, assorted figurines and paraphernalia, and... more than a few empty TV dinner trays. Perhaps I would have thought that last bit embarrassing, had I not instead been transfixed to the stratoscreen, a controller in my shaking hooves, beads of sweat rolling down my coat.

“Did… did we actually do it?” I muttered into my headset.

“Yeah… yeah, I think we did,” came the nasally voice of Mash.

We had anticipated this moment for months. Prepared for weeks. Devoured every morsel of info we could find. Planned out every possible encounter. Equipped the best gear we could scour off the many dark creatures that had fallen before us. And when the gates to the Citadel of Infinity had opened, I—Dovetail, Crusader of the Last City—and five other intrepid members of my guild, Sanctuary, had poured in, dedicating several hours over the last four days to clear each chamber, to learn every encounter, to struggle against every foe.

And now, after days of near non-stop effort, our fireteam—consisting of people who I had known for well over the past year, who had come from as far away as the cold mountain spires of Gryphos and the blazing sands of Saddle Arabia—stood before the Gates of Infinity.

Victorious.

Our Harmony had prevailed. Theralon, Time’s Conflux, lie defeated at our very hooves.

“We got ’em,” piped up one voice.

“Fuckin’ got ’em,” another swore gleefully over the mic.

“FUCKIN’ got ’em,” a third one echoed.

“HELL YEAH. Theralon can SUCK A—”

The voice comms erupted in boisterous laughter and raucous celebration. I leaned back in my seat, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, as some of the most foul-mouthed exclamations of merriment and victory filled my ears.

We had won.

And better yet, we were the first ones to do it. In the entire world.

The realization hit me, and I smiled even brighter.

“Thanks, you guys,” I squeaked.

The comms sobered up, and one by one, they spoke.

“Yeah, Dove. Thanks,” said Mash.

“Well done, Dovetail,” intoned Stranger.

“You go, Dovey,” said Shadow Song.

“Dovetail for Princess!” cheered Zaid.

“Who’s the man? DOVE's the man. Err… kinda,” chuckled Freya.

Tears filled my eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you guys. You’re the best clanmates ever.”

“Aww, don’t get sappy on us, Dovey! You shoulda heard yourself. Taking command like nopony’s business.”

“Pfft. Good thing I’m not a pony. I can do whatever I want!”

“And that’s why my damage ratings are higher than yours!”

“Oh? Wanna check the meters, Shadow? Pretty sure I scored more crits on the boss than you.”

“I sincerely doubt either of you will have numbers quite as high as our young Dove's.”

“Hah! Whatever. Dove can bite my tail feathers.”

Everyone laughed, I the hardest of all. Some of my friends were pretty crude, but they were my friends. It didn’t matter whether I knew them in real life or not—we had been together, side by side, in good times and bad. Not just in the game, but elsewhere—when I doubted myself, they always managed to make me feel like the most important little filly in the world.

“C’mon, everypo— everybody. Let’s take a screenie for the net.”

Everyone gathered their characters together. They posed, they danced, they saluted. I smiled and tapped the Share button. As the stratoscreen captured the image, there was a white flash, so blinding that I actually had to blink a few times to clear my vision afterwards.

Perhaps it knew what we did.

I chuckled as I shared my last moments of celebration with my friends before logging out and flopping onto my bed in utter exhaustion. After all, in our hearts, we knew that it was true: for the next twenty four hours, we were indeed the most important people in the world.

The flash of the screen faded from my memory.

I blinked.

Mere seconds had passed. All of my friends were staring at me, awaiting my next move.

I blinked again.

And then I turned my head.

There, on my flank, glistening effervescently in the morning sun, was my cutie mark: a pearl-white dove, gracefully taking flight, a video game controller in its talons.

I blinked once more. Just to make sure this was real.

Sure enough, the image did not change.

...

Wow. What a stupid cutie mark.

Class continued as usual, though the staring didn't stop even amid the lessons. Clearly, my new cutie mark was far more fascinating than the birth of the Stratonet.

Phwat.

Grrr. That was the second spitball now. They had good aim.

I felt my anger bubbling to the surface, and I was tempted to whirl around and give them a piece of my mind—

No. I needed to calm myself and focus.

I breathed in, and I breathed out. Just like Rarity taught me.

Mind of teacher. Mind of lesson. Mind of bullies. Too many minds.

No mind.

And I closed my eyes.

My ears flicked, and the world came into sharp aural clarity. I could hear the scratching of notes on paper. I could hear the yawning of the student across the room. I could hear the poot of a new spitball ejecting from its barrel to race inexorably towards my temple.

Four o'clock.

I opened my eyes and snapped my head towards the offending projectile.

There it was.

My horn glowed, and a split second later, a hovering wad of paper came into focus mere centimeters from my nose, caught in a soft mint-green aura of protective magic.

Diamond Tiara stared from across the room. Apple Bloom clapped her hooves to her mouth. Scootaloo's jaw dropped.

And the wad of paper fell to the floor.

"You are a badass," whispered Scootaloo, her eyes glittering. "Please marry me."

"Hmph!" Her attempt foiled, Diamond stuck her nose the other way. I grinned at my own cleverness. I hadn't actually caught it in midair like it seemed—I had just created a force-field roughly the size of my face, which had engulfed the spitball like a net.

But they weren't unicorns. They didn't have to know.

I turned around, my damn-near cinematic success at protecting my head from saliva-infused paper artillery having done much to dissipate my irritation. But now I needed to focus again.

With another deep inhale, I worked to clear my mind. Just like Rarity taught me.

"Sweetie Belle?" came a voice from the front of the room.

"Er…" I opened my eyes. "Yes, Miss Cheerilee?"

She smiled softly. "My apologies for interrupting your focus exercises. I'll repeat the question." A few students snickered a little bit.

Screw off. It wasn't my fault I needed this to concentrate. Or that I was currently being assailed by inter-table ballistic missiles.

"From what you can remember of our Thaumology courses, can you remind the class who predominantly refined the magical applications of gemstones, and how?"

Easy.

"Of course," I replied. "Miss Twili— er, Archmage Sparkle and Grand Alchemist Zecora. They studied the Elements of Harmony, gemstones that each contained a powerful spell."

"Correct," she affirmed, drawing a five-point shape with a sixth in the middle. "What other important realization did they make, when all of the Elements were put together?"

"They were more powerful when combined. Each Element had its own spell—like Loyalty, which held the Elements together; Laughter, which generated magical power; and Generosity, which distributed the power to the other Elements—that could work together to power another spell."

"Yes again! And it is from these realizations that she created…?"

"A self-powered magical circuit, one that could constantly run a specific spell by carefully generating and regulating its own energy."

"Correct, as usual. Ten points to Gryphondor." The class chuckled at her reference. "And it was the Zecora-Sparkle Thaumic Circuit," Miss Cheerilee explained, finishing her pentagon and writing a large 'TC' next to it, "that allowed us to record information into gems, storing data and energy far more effectively than books, tapes, and batteries."

Miss Cheerilee then drew a huge web of interconnecting lines, floating above a rough drawing of Equestria.

"The 'Stratonet', named because it mostly exists in the stratosphere, is the most important invention we've made from TCs so far. It's a network that can send information through the skies anywhere in Equestria, and many other countries in the world, making it extremely useful for communication and—" she winked at me, and I flushed, "—entertainment, as I'm sure young Sweetie Belle and Button Mash are well aware."

Another round of giggles. Did she really have to keep pointing that out…?

"In order to help visualize this data, large, magically-infused sheets of paper called 'stratoscreens' were invented…"

"Psst."

The hissing sound came from behind me.

Just ignore it.

"Psst!"

Horseapples. It was too late—my focus had fallen apart completely.

I prepared to do my breathing exercises again.

"PSST!"

Oh, for Sun's sake!

Fuming, I flipped around. "What—"

A paper airplane smacked into my face.

She had really good aim.

Grumbling, I unfolded Diamond Tiara's little airplane.

Scribbled on the paper was a single word in red.

"GAYMARE"

"I'm sorry."

I fixed my gaze to the surface of my teacher's desk, not quite ready to meet Miss Cheerilee's. All around us, kids were packing up to go home.

"I know you are, honey. And I'm not angry with you, of course not," Miss Cheerilee said consolingly as she looked up from my unfinished math assignment. "Just... you've been doing so well lately, but this is the third time this week. Are you falling into old habits again?"

"K-kinda," I said honestly. "I was just really... preoccupied last night."

She raised an eyebrow. "...With your video games."

"...Yeah." I scratched the back of my neck with a hoof.

This wasn't going well.

"What of the egg timer?" she asked, referring to a tool I used to help me regulate my work patterns.

"I... purposefully didn't set it."

You had no one to blame but yourself.

"I see." She clicked her tongue, clearly disappointed. "And your sister?"

"Rarity was too busy with work to help me out in the morning."

She sighed again. Each one felt like another painful stab in the chest.

"Sweetie, listen. I know you're a brilliant student when you really set your mind to it. I want to help you, I really do."

I knew that to be true. All of those visits with Rarity were a testament to that.

"But you know that I can't help you if you aren't helping yourself."

I knew that too. And it's not like I didn't want to. I just sucked at it.

"It seems like a lot of the safeguards we've helped you establish rely on each other too much. If one of them fails, the rest of them do as well."

"I know," I said out loud this time, not wanting to seem like I wasn't listening. "I really wish I could just remember to get things done. I know that's not an excuse, but sometimes it's just... difficult."

Couldn't really double-check the checklist if I keep forgetting the checklist exists.

Miss Cheerilee clicked her tongue again, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh, shuffling through the papers on her desk. "Well, you know the rules. I don't accept incomplete work, and anything you turn in late is half-credit."

"I understand." I lowered my head again.

How could I forget the rules, after years of this?

My eyes drifted to the windows, where Apple Bloom and Scootaloo stood on the other side, awaiting my verdict. I felt heat rush to my face again.

As if I didn't have enough things to be embarrassed about today.

I gave them a meaningful smile and shook my head. They nodded knowingly, and turned to walk away.

Then, I noticed Diamond Tiara standing just to the side of them. Apparently she hadn't chosen to go home yet.

O Celestia, what horrible fate hast thou wrought upon me, tyrant of tyrants, merciless—

"But considering your procrastination did earn you a cutie mark..."

Huh? I looked back at her. She was smiling again.

"I suppose I can make an exception this time. If you can get it back to me by the end of the week, I won't say anything to Rarity, and I'll eliminate the late penalty."

"...Thank you, Miss Cheerilee." O Celestia, you glorious, most incorrigible of souls, never shall my tongue slander your good name again—

"This time only," she warned. "I don't want to give you the idea that procrastinating is okay, or that you can make a habit out of it." Her smile became a wide grin, and her eyes traveled to my haunches. "But who am I to stand in the way of your cutie mark? After all, I suppose you can't fight fate."

Even as I matched her expression with my own smile, a vibrant blood-red word flashed again in my eyes. I couldn't help that my reply was laced with embarrassment and regret.

"I suppose I can't."

“Oh my stars, did you get your cutie mark?!”

“All of you are simply just growing up so fast.”

“We’re about to graduate, you know.”

"I have my own fair share of secrets too.”

“You can’t run away from what you are!”

"Did I ever mention that I love you?"

"What kind of a destiny is this?”

|♫| ɪᴠ. The Ecstasy

S E V E R A L M O N T H S A G O . . .

S I L V E R S P O O N

Dovetail’s back was turned, her hand cannon firing shots downrange.

She was distracted. I had her. This was my chance.

With a manic grin, I leapt from behind the tree and charged the armored filly. Raising my auto rifle, I squeezed the trigger, a stream of electrified lead bursting forth from the barrel.

“RAAAUUUUUGHHHHH!”

Click.

With a blink, I realized my weapon’s sights had drifted straight into the clear blue sky above us.

“Your recoil control is awful,” came a snide voice. I glanced down towards my enemy, and was immediately staring down the barrel of a magnificently-crafted hand cannon.

POW.

Grrrrrrr…

I lashed out with the butt of my rifle.

BAM! It smacked straight into her side with a meaty crunch, and the force of the blow sent her flying backwards, her hooves grinding into the dirt as she slid to a stop several meters away.

I sprinted madly towards her again, ready to deliver a final blow.

Suddenly her eyes shot back up at me and she leapt forward with alarming speed—the last thing I saw was her forehoof sailing towards my face.

BAM!

I slamed into the wall behind me, and everything exploded in a cloud of electrified dust.

As I slowly faded from consciousness, her sickly sweet voice intruded upon my awareness, like a squeaky specter gloating over her victory.

“Trying to best a Titan in melee combat?” she chided. “Brilliant plan, Starswirl.”

Grrrrr…!

She turned the corner and already had her sights on me, as if she had known that I was there all along.

“Drat!” I raised my shotgun, and only managed two blasts before I was overwhelmed with a hail of automatic fire, my body slumping to the floor in mere moments.

“The motion tracker is your friend,” the filly hummed in merriment as she trotted casually over my corpse, before turning to glance back. “Well, except for when I’m using it.” She raspberried.

Grrrrrrr!

Back turned. Looking away. Engaged in a fight with somepony else.

I raised my rifle and charged her again, closing in for the kill. It had been a week since the last time I had encountered her like this, and my aim had improved significantly since then.

As I began to pull back on the trigger, she suddenly snapped around like a whip—her weapon sights locked onto my head like a magnet, and she immediately opened fire.

I returned fire, but far too late—I was dead before I could even empty half my magazine! What the hay—?!

“I’m surprised you can’t even hear yourself sprinting,” she chuckled, snatching up my spare ammo bandolier. “Might as well be wearing a cowbell!”

GRRRR!

We stood mere meters apart, panting heavily from our exertions. Our energy shields were down, our weapons empty.

We were both vulnerable.

But I had an ace up my sleeve: my super ability was charged.

I leapt to my hooves, swept a foreleg before me, and unleashed my Nova Bomb. With a flash, three dark orbs of barely-contained void energy erupted forth, sailing inexorably towards her form—and not a split second later, she had already leapt straight upwards! As her leg boosters lifted her into the air, the orbs crashed into the ground, their impact producing a maelstrom of otherworldly flames that ineffectually licked at her hooves.

“Seriously?!” I yelled at her. “How did you even know I was super-charged?!”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” she sneered as she reached the upper arc of her jump. “You glow. Like me.”

“What do you mean, ‘like you’—”

Oh.

So that’s what that blue glimmer around her body was.

Almost on cue, her leg boosters cut off, and her entire body lit up with furious arcs of electricity as she sailed straight towards me, hooves outstretched.

FWOOOOM.

“GAAAHHHH!”

As the match ended, I angrily flopped down onto the bridge of my ship.

“How the hay does she do that?!” I shouted at nothing, smacking the floorboards with a hoof.

Honestly! It had been nearly half a month of this. Day in and day out, I followed Dovetail into the Crucible, hoping to face off against her each time, trying everything I could to one-up her and make her life a living Hel. I could feel myself getting better—my aim with a rifle was improving dramatically, and I was slowly beginning to master my control of the void—yet almost every single time I managed to confront her upon the battlefield, she annihilated me without breaking a sweat!

And of course she had to be a pompous blowhard about it.

“I swear to the Sun and Stars beyond, that intolerable filly is all kinds of unnatural,” I growled, the tone of my cold snarl seeping into the low timbre of Shadow Song’s masculine voice.

“It’s just practice.”

What the—?!

I glanced up towards my dashboard, where a floating video screen had appeared over the controls, showing a petite, white-coated terran, her messy red hair streaked with sharp yellow accents.

“D-Dovetail?” I stammered, unfamiliar with the countenance of the filly’s unarmored state—though she confirmed my guess with a gentle nod. “How did you—”

“We’re still in the matchmaking lobby,” she said in the familiar, squeaky voice of Sweetie Belle. “Pretty much everyone from the last match can still hear you, though I think we’re the only two with microphones.”

“Er…” Suddenly, my mind flashed back to all of our other battles over the last several weeks, which often ended with me angrily shrieking obscenities into what apparently hadn’t been thin air after all.

“You have some colorful swears,” she giggled, and I felt my face heat up.

“W-what is it that you want?” I muttered.

“Just to say hi, I guess. I’ve been seeing you in a lot of my Crucible matches, for some reason.” She cocked her head inquisitively. “Have you been following me?”

I felt myself go pale. “Er…”

She’s onto you. Think. Think.

“I mean, it could be the matchmaking system just putting us in the same games a lot,” she continued, “but for something that’s supposed to be mostly randomized…”

“No, you’re right,” I interrupted her. “I admit, I’ve been… joining your matches specifically.”

The beginnings of an explanation began forming in my head.

“Really.” She leaned back with a smirk. “Now you’ve got me curious.”

“It’s just…” A pause. “If I’m being completely honest… you’re a very talented player.”

Yes. That’ll work. Sweet-talk her. Appeal to her ego. This is your chance to get close.

“One of the first matches I ever played, you were on the enemy team,” I continued, affecting my speech with a mounting air of appreciation. “And every time I encountered you, you bested me almost effortlessly. I couldn’t help but find your talent—” I grit my teeth “—admirable. You became somepony to look up to.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? That’s… I’m flattered.”

It was working. I could barely abide the vile utterances coming from my lips, and it was all I could do to set aside my pride in order to express them. But by the Stars, it was working.

“Yes,” I said with a vigorous nod. “And I eventually decided that I’d strive to be as talented as you were. Perhaps the more I played against you, the more I could hopefully discern what it was that made you such a capable, efficient player. I hoped that, someday, I could emulate it.”

A moment of silence befell the bridge.

“Kiss-ass.”

WHAT.

I stared dumbfounded at the little mare. “…Excuse me?”

“You’re full of it,” she continued, her expression hardening. “Every match we play is a team game. I’m not the only one who wipes the floor with you.”

I winced.

“And yet, even though you have an entire squad of players to fight against, and several objectives to complete, you always make a beeline straight for me. It’s like you’re out to get me, or something.”

“L-like I explained earlier,” I stammered, “your skill is peerless, and I merely wish to test my mettle against someone of your—“

“There are plenty of other players who’ll frag you more than I do,” she declared instantly. “Yet you never pursue them, at least not when I’m in sight.”

“I-I—“

“And don’t even get me started on the bucket of swears you toss in my direction after each match, when you think I’m not listening. They don’t sound like admiration; they sound like malice.”

I flinched.

“So what is it, then?” she sneered with a smug grin and narrowed eyes. “Why chase me into every game? Why ignore other players as soon as I come into sight? Why abandon your team, your objectives—“

“FINE!” I snapped angrily, cutting her short. “You want to know why I always gun for you? It’s simple.”

I leaned in towards the screen and glared at her.

“I hate you,” I spat.

Her eyes widened. “You… hate me?”

“Did I stutter?” I began pacing the bridge of my ship. “Normally I wouldn’t think twice about your otherworldly tendency to destroy me before I can even fire a shot. That alone is infuriating, but forgivable—this is my first video game, after all, and my novice skills could never outmatch yours.

“But the manner in which you carry yourself is utterly vile. Your insufferably cocky attitude. The way you parade around my corpse after every kill like a self-inflated windbag. Your snide remarks in that excruciatingly shrill voice of yours.”

I pointed a shaking hoof at her.

“You and everything you do infuriates me to no end. And that’s why I hunt you down. Because I want to make you eat your words. I want you to get a taste of your own foul tongue. By no means do I have the capacity to do that now, but maybe someday, I’ll be the one pulverizing you into the ground, and we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

I slammed my hoof onto a button on the console, and as Dovetail’s shocked face fizzled out of existence, I finally took a breath, only then realizing how long it had been since my last.

Certainly not a waste of breath, truth be told. After those last several rounds of endless defeat at her hooves, that single moment of brute honesty had been utterly therapeutic.

The airship suddenly lurched as the autopilot began directing me towards the location of our next battle. Glancing over the list of participants, I saw that Dovetail’s name was still in the list. She hadn’t fled.

This wasn’t over.

I reopened my eyes.

Through the sights of my rifle, past the thin layer of smoke wafting up from the tip of its barrel, was a filly. She stared at me slack-jawed, her tattered red mane billowing ever-so-softly in the wind. A hole had punched clean through her forehead.

Her silvery magnum clattered to the floor. Her lifeless body followed. In my eyes, the entire scene played at a crawl, almost as if the universe itself had slowed time so that I could relish this singular moment in all of its shocking, violent beauty.

And relish it I did.

I had killed her.

I had killed Dovetail.

“Let this defeat be a lesson: only the strong survive.”

As I reappeared on the bridge of my airship, a holographic scoreboard appeared before me.

And on that scoreboard, beside my name, was a single damning number:

One.

I glowered at the numerical glyph, hoping to compel it into taking a different form. But it was defiant in its message. Unchanging. Resolute. Clear.

One.

For an entire fifteen minutes, I had managed naught but a single kill.

I slumped to the floor, tossing my weapon aside—it clattered uselessly against the bulkheads.

This was an exercise in futility. A pointless waste of time. Dovetail was far too good, and I was simply no match for her.

“Fire in bursts.”

…What?

I glanced up at my console, where a holofeed of Dovetail had appeared.

“Don’t hold down the trigger for so long without a break,” came her voice again. “Stop firing every second or so.”

Now she was telling me what to do? And on top of that, she was telling me to stop firing?! The nerve!

“Listen, you,” I spat, rising to meet her eyes. “I only just managed to kill you for the first time. If you think you can trick me into not shooting you—“

“I’m not telling you not to shoot,” she interrupted. “I’m telling you to shoot slower.”

“Pfft! Why? So you can kill me faster?”

“No, idiot, so you can actually hit me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you fire your weapon non-stop, the recoil will make you lose control of the rifle, and you’ll end up missing most of your shots. Give the gun a rest every second or so, and use that time to regain control.”

That… hm. That actually made a decent amount of sense.

“Just try it next match, okay? You might actually do a little better.”

The holofeed vanished just as the airship began its descent. I glanced at the discarded auto-rifle lying in the corner.

Fire in bursts…

“Your light was not enough, Crusader. Get ‘em next time.”

“Much better,” chirped Dovetail as her feed burst to life.

“You were going easy on me, weren’t you,” I grunted, glaring at her through the feed.

“Actually, no,” she replied with a smile. “You got me good, all three times.”

“And you got me good all six other times,” I spat.

A frown. “Look, you did three times better than your last match, and that was after only changing one thing about your gameplay style. Imagine if you changed more?”

Does it matter? You’ll still always be better than me by leagues, and you’ll always be ready to rub it in my face when you prove it.

“This time, try aiming for other players instead of just me,” she continued. “Remember, everyone else is gunning for you too, and you can’t kill me if they’ve killed you.”

The holofeed disappeared, and as the airship shuddered to land, I started to wonder what even the point of all this was.

“I know that’s not the best you’ve got. Now do it again.”

“I’ve noticed something, actually,” came Dovetail’s voice, which—to nobody’s great surprise—immediately followed my reappearance on my airship’s bridge, as had become a common bookend to my matches against her over the last several days. “I’ve seen you use nothing but auto-rifles, and never any other type of weapon. Why?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “They’re like Gryphosi weapons—in real life, I mean. They shoot a hail of bullets very quickly, so I figured they’d kill the fastest.”

“…Eh.”

Eh?

“I mean, sure, that might make sense in real life,” she continued. “But this is a video game, so things are a little different. The weapon types are balanced in a way that’ll make them fair against each other.”

That certainly explains why your puny little revolver can outmatch my fully-automatic assault rifle.

“I’ve noticed that you’re great at acquiring your targets after you spot them. You almost always land the first shot before I can even fire back at you.”

A compliment? That’s rare, coming from you.

”But you’re not very good at keeping that target in your sights once you start firing. Almost every bullet misses.”

Oh. Of course she found a way to turn it around.

“Well sorry,” I retorted. “I can’t be good at everything like you are.”

“Actually, I’m pretty much the same way,” she said simply. “Why else do you think I use hand cannons instead of auto-rifles?”

I… huh?

“I lose control of my gun very quickly, just like you. But a hand cannon fires really slow, which gives me a chance to regain control of my gun after every shot.”

“But if it fires so slowly, how am I expected to—“

“It should be pretty obvious that hand cannon rounds are a lot more powerful than auto-rifle rounds. Even if it shoots slowly, every shot deals a ton of damage.”

“Are you suggesting I do the same, then?”

“Sure. Or scout rifles. Or sniper rifles. The important thing is that you pick what suits your style of play.”

…

Something didn’t make sense.

It had been a few days since my first verbal confrontation with Dovetail, and since then she had been giving me tidbits of advice here and there. And so far, it had worked. I was improving swiftly. I was ranking higher in the scoreboards after every match. I was gaining more kills, achieving more objectives, and becoming more of an asset to my team than a hindrance.

What confused me was why. After I had yelled at her, criticized her attitude, made it plain as day that I despised her… she was giving me advice. She was helping me get better at killing her.

“Shadow?” she asked, clearly expecting some sort of confirmation that I had digested her suggestion. I looked up at her.

“Dovetail, why are you telling all of me this? Why are you helping me?”

A short pause. “Because you can be better than you are.”

The airship lurched.

“Check your armory,” she said quickly as we neared our next destination. “See what other guns you have, and get a feel for them. It’ll take some practice, but you might get better results.”

Her feed winked out of existence. I glanced behind me at the rack of weapons lining the wall of my airship, where the dozens of guns I had found throughout my (admittedly short) adventures were on display, like an exhibit in a war museum. As evidenced by the dust they were collecting, I had never thought to use any other weapon on that rack, save the one whose spot currently lie empty.

Occupying the shelf directly above it was a long, sleek weapon, with a large optical scope mounted to the top. While its size had impressed me previously, I had never sought to use it in the Crucible due to how difficult it was to handle. It fired so very slowly, and was barely functional at close range.

But I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try and mix things up a bit.

“Let the sting of this defeat feed your fire.”

Eight.

Two more than my last match. A good number.

“Stars, you’re like a ghost,” said Dovetail, in something of an awestruck voice. Glancing at her holofeed, I could see that her expression matched. “Where did you score that last kill from?”

“On the overhang to your left, as you were rushing my teammate at Alpha,” I replied. “You don’t make a habit of checking your blind spots, do you?”

“You didn’t show up on the motion tracker, so I didn’t think to check.”

“You rely on that too much. I stopped moving as soon as I heard you approaching.”

“Heh, I guess I do,” she said, then gave me a sly wink. “Too bad it wasn’t enough though.”

“It never is.”

“Pfft. Maybe it would be if you stopped using that shabby sniper rifle. Where’d you get that from, the Demons’ Lair?”

Demons’ Lair? “No, I think it’s one of the first ones you receive.”

“Wait, you mean from the prologue?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Why not use something better, like from a Strike?”

“I’ve never done a Strike before.”

“Never done a— you’re joking, right? You’ve never taken assignments from the Vanguard? Have you done anything outside of the Crucible since you first started playing?”

“No, not really.” Not when the entire point was to find you, after all.

“You’ve never explored the Bovarian Wildlands? Or the ruins of Draconis? Or the Shattered Coast of Myrnica?”

I’d never even heard of those places. “No.”

The awe-struck look on Dovetail’s face was amusing, to say the least.

“…Shadow, have you left the City even once?”

“Why is that such a big deal?” I snapped, growing irritated by her disparaging tone. “I’ve only ever been interested in fighting against other players, not ‘exploring the wilds’ or whatever. Why is this such a big deal to you? Let me play how I want.”

“ …I mean, sure, I guess, but…” Her eyes wandered past me, presumably to scrutinize the interior of my airship. “All your best equipment is mass-produced guns and off-the-shelf armor from the City vendors. Even your ship is just a loaner from the dockyards.”

So? “It works fine for me. I’ve been competitive in multiplayer.”

“Adequate, maybe,” she replied with a shrug. “But you can’t excel with early-game stuff. You need to actually get out there and find better gear. Go and discover places in the world. Look for lost treasure. Do a few bounties from the bounty board, maybe a few Strike missions with a team.”

“Team? Where am I even supposed to find a team?”

“I don’t know! Don’t you have any friends that you could go exploring with?”

“No.”

That shut her up. She jawed for a few moments, shocked into silence.

“Shadow… have you been playing alone this entire time?”

“Yes.”

She blinked. Then blinked again. And then again, perhaps for good measure. She certainly seemed rather fond of blinking.

“Wow,” she said, finally. “That must be lonely.”

“Not really,” I replied with a shrug. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”

“But there’s so much stuff that you can’t do by yourself!” she exclaimed, incredulous. “Exploring the lands beyond the City walls is dangerous, and Strikes on enemy strongholds are practically impossible without—!”

“I already told you, I don’t do any of that,” I interrupted her with a held-up hoof. “None of it interests me. I just want to fight against other players.”

“More like you just want to fight against me,” she teased.

Oh, there was more truth to that than you knew, Sweetie Belle.

“…Well, listen. A couple friends of mine are joining me later tonight, and we were planning on exploring the ruins of Highcrowne, maybe even see if we can uncover Autumn’s Lair.”

“I have absolutely no idea what an autumn’s lair is.”

“Not many do right now, but it’s the last stronghold of the House of Autumn, one of the ancient noble houses of pre-Collapse Gryphos. They’re coordinating their efforts against the City from there, and the Forces of the City have been trying to nail down its location for ages.” Dovetail pulled up a holoscreen to her side and began flipping through what appeared to be… notes? Maps, handwritten letters, and photographs of once-regal cities ruined by age, all with little annotations scribbled upon them pointing out key details. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, they’ve bunkered down somewhere in the ruins of the old Gryphosi capitol of Highcrowne. If we can find it and take out their leader, we can wrest control of—”

“Enough, I get it,” I interjected, even though I really didn’t get it and didn’t care to. “Why does this concern me?”

Another pause, and she tapped her hooves together in an odd display of… nervousness? “I guess what I’m trying to ask, is… do you maybe wanna… I dunno, join us?”

…

Of the myriad things I expected to do, the last was being invited by Dovetail to play with her, considering the entire point of me having even purchased this game was to do the exact opposite.

“I’m not sure,” I muttered noncommittally. “I don’t really care about that sort of thing.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun,” she implored.

“You really want me to go, don’t you?” I asked, confused by her interest. “Why me?”

“Well, assuming we find it, I’d need a small Strike team to even have a chance of breaking in—”

“But you said you had friends, plural,” I pointed out. “Do you really need any more ponies to join you?”

“Hey, every extra body counts,” she replied with a shrug. “I need all the help I can get—experienced help, specifically—and you’re really not as bad as you think you are. But you really, really need new gear.” A couple more swipes on her holoscreen, and the image of a fearsome, heavily-armed gryphon appeared, a menacing scowl on his face and a huge weapon gripped in his talons. “There are rumors that Drakkaris, the Kell of Autumn, wields a fearsome rifle unearthed from a Golden Age ruin. Imagine how much better you might fare in the Crucible if you’re armed with an ancient pre-Collapse weapon?”

Kell of Autumn? Golden Age? What was she even babbling about now? Obviously these terms had something else to do with the game’s storyline, and I honestly couldn’t care less.

But, on the other hand, having a more powerful weapon with which to dominate in multiplayer was an attractive prospect indeed. If I could get my hands on that rifle, I could easily wipe the floor with Dovetail in these matches.

Unfortunately, if these “Strikes” were the only place for me to get a new weapon, then that meant I needed a team. And with Dovetail being the only pony I spoke to in-game with any regularity, my options were limited in regards to assembling one.

Still, if the only price I needed to pay was to suffer her presence for however long was necessary…

No, wait. This wasn’t just something I had to suffer. This was an opportunity. I could spend some time with her, get to know her a bit, and maybe even pick up on something, anything, that I could later pass onto Diamond for our pleasure.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

“Let’s do it.”